














ere 7 eranreerain 


—————a 
SSI re n= 





Etc 


Ir 


2 - 
s/y3 


ees 


UNIV 
OF ILLINOIS 
GIFT OF 
HARRISON E. CUNNINGHAM | 


Ou esas 
Q44C 





The person charging this material is re- 
sponsible for its return to the library from 
which it was withdrawn on or before the 
Latest Date stamped below. 


Theft, mutilation, and underlining of books are reasons 
for disciplinary action and may result in dismissal from 
the University. 

To renew call Telephone Center, 333-8400 


UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN 


fees NOTICE 
JUN e 31998, renew aii Library Mer : 


The Minimum Fee for each Lost Book lis $50.00 





L161—O-1096 








J 


. ek tes bie 





a 


oF 





Photographed and colored by ‘Fred Armbrister 


A CHARMING VIEW OF LAKE LOUISE 
Under the slanting sun, rose and purple shadows darken the bright 
emerald of the water. 


BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


BY 
VERNON QUINN 


Author of “Beautiful America’ and 
“Beautiful Mexico” 


WITH SIXTY-FIVE ILLUSTRATIONS 
FROM PHOTOGRAPHS 





NEW YORK 


FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY 
| MCMXXV 


Copyright, 1925, by 
FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY 





All rights reserved 


Printed in the United States of America 


To 
CYAN VA DUA 


“Lui ya longtemps que je taime, 


Jamais je ne toublierat. 












yt 
+ y ute ae 7 2 i 
Lowe id ‘ 
Pe xy a ae 
Wi iy ay i A i 
“i Me tae 
, +h 


» 
is 
A 










A a ae 














H 
7 da | aah 
ab ; 4 
i, j } 
f 
a | 
ad 
4 
TAn0 
‘ 
of 
' t ' 
" ; Y rf , rit Ni i 
’ i ‘ ; i , ai Le | 
« MPO aDD when ny Bar AS ate Pr Ae hd 
- iy, : We aA ‘i i vig Menai Gy, in MN hihi 
UR Sa 
As a4 ens , we 





ub Lo Fi 


FOREWORD 


Voltaire called Canada ‘“‘a patch of snow— inhabited 
by barbarians, bears and beavers.’’ While few people 
are now so ill-informed, there are still many who do 
not know what a beautiful country Canada truly is. 

This volume covers the entire Dominion; but with 
a limited number of pages, descriptions must neces- 
sarily be shortened—many places, scarcely more than 
mentioned here, deserve glowing chapters devoted to 
their beauty. All that may be attempted, in so brief 
a space, is to give a general knowledge of Canada’s 
multifold scenic attractions, and create a desire to learn 
more, at firsthand or through reading, of that delight- 
ful country. 

Brief historic tales, and many Indian legends, are 
woven into the text; for Canada’s scenic beauty is insep- 
arable from the romance of her dramatic and heroic 
history; and every part of the coasts or lakes or moun- 
tains has at least one Indian legend to explain how it 
came to be formed. Many of the legends were gath- 
ered by the author directly from the Indians them- 
selves. 

That an idea may be had of the richness of Canadian 
literature, the opening verse of each chapter has been 


chosen from the works of Canadian poets. Much of 
vii 


Viil FOREWORD 


the verse throughout the text, also, is Canadian. The 
names of the authors of these quotations will be found 
in an appendix. 

The author wishes to express grateful appreciation 
of the courtesy and the helpful assistance of all those 
fine Canadians who are connected with the Department 
of the Interior, at Ottawa. Thanks are due to the 
Department of the Interior, also, and to the Canadian 
Pacific Railway and the Canadian National Railways, 
for many attractive photographs. 

For the exquisite photograph of Lake Louise which 
appears on the cover and as a frontispiece, the author 
is much indebted to Mr. Fred Armbrister, an artist 
whose photographic landscapes, because of their poetic 
composition and the charm of their coloring, are 
eagerly sought by visitors to Lake Louise. 

The sixty-five photographs used to illustrate the book 
were chosen from among many hundreds, in a desire 
to have them both beautiful and truly representative— 
in so far as a photograph may be—of Canada’s rugged 
seacoasts, her colorful prairies and her glorious moun- 
tains. 

Vie) 
New York, July, 1925 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 


RIE TCE Chie UG uc rh) Rn Mh ate Ae MeN i ete ert 


I 
DELIGHTFUL NOVA SCOTIA 


The Lure of Cape Breton Island—Rugged Ingonish Bay 
—The Legend of Smoky Cape—Beautiful Bras d’Or 
—Sydney’s Busy Harbor—The Ragged Coast—His- 
toric Louisbourg—The Legend of Canso Gut—From 
Margaree to Cheticamp—Lovely Chedabucto Bay— 
Halifax, “The City by the Sea”—Pirate Gold in 
Mahone Bay—The Famous South Shore—Yarmouth, 
the Delightful Gateway—Digby and Cherry-land— 
The Legend of Annapolis Basin—The Ruins of Fort 
Anne—Valleys of Magic—Legends of the Basin of 
Minas—Up Cobequid Bay—Along the Northumber- 
land Strait—Where Fundy and Chignecto Meet . 1 


II 
NEW BRUNSWICK, THE LURING LAND 


The Story of Sainte Croix—St. Andrews-by-the-Sea—T he 
Legend of Chamcook Lake—The Islands of Passa- 
maquoddy Bay—Pirate Gold on Grand Manan—The 
Storied St. John—The Legend of Grand Falls— 
Fredericton, the Delightful City—Lakes Along the 
Way—The City of St. John—Scenic Moncton—The 


1x 


x CONTENTS 


Legend of Hopewell Cape—Acadia Land—On Nor- 
thumberland Strait—The Romance of Miramichi Bay 
—The Lure of the Deep Forests—The Famous Resti- 
gouche River—Beautiful Chaleur Bay—The Legend 
of the Phantom Light—The Mythical Gougou 


ra 
THE PAPE Yas te 


The Legend of Prince Edward Island—When Cartier 
Came—Delightful Tignish—Along the North Coast 
—Rustico’s Famous Beach—Sea-meadows at East 
Point—The Charm of Souris—In Cardigan Bay—In- 
land from Montague—Lovely Murray Harbour— 
The Legend of the Gulls—The Great Hillsborough 
Bay—Charlottetown, the Flower City—‘“The Garden 
of the Gulf’’—Iceboats on the Strait—Fox Ranching 
—Colorful Bedeque Bay—Summerside’s Many De- 
lights—Around West Point—A Micmac Legend 


IV 
THE CHARM OF QUEBEC 


Romantic Quebec—The Islands in the Gulf—The “Great 
River of Canada’”—Gaspé’s Charm—The Legend of 
Percé Rock—Matapedia and “Beautiful Bic’’—His- 
toric Tadoussac—A Creation Legend—The Saguenay 
and Lake St. John—Murray Bay, the Popular Play- 
ground—The Charm of the Habitants—Quaint and 
Historic Quebec—The Shrine of Ste. Anne de Beau- 
pré—Montmorency Falls—Lake Edward and Lauren- 
tides Park—The Lakes of the South—The Legend 
of Shawinigan Falls—The ‘“‘River of the Iroquois’ — 
Beautiful Montreal—Canoe-routes Along the Ottawa 
—The Great North—The Legend of the Stars 


PAGE 


33 


59 


77 


CONTENTS xi 


Vv 
ONTARIO’S LOVELY LAKES 


PAGE 
Ottawa, the Beautiful Capital—On Lake Temiskaming— 
Temagami’s Lure—Lake Nipissing and French River 
—The Legend of the Five Men—In Algonquin Park 
—A Legend of Muskoka Lakes—The Lake-of-Bays 
District—The Charm of the Kawartha Lakes—A 
Legend of the Rideau Lakes—The Thousand Islands 
—Along Lake Ontario—In Gay Toronto—Niagara 
Falls, ‘Thundering Water’—Historic Lake Erie— 
Lake Huron and Georgian Bay—The Romance of 
Sault Sainte Marie—Hiawatha’s “Big Sea Water’ — 
The Lovely Nipigon Region—Legends of Naniboujou 
—The Twin Cities on Thunder Bay—In the Wilds 
of Quetico Park—The Rainy Lake Region—Canoe- 
trails in the Wilderness—The Lake-of-the-Woods and 

Minaki—The Waiting North . . By 


VI 


MANITOBA, “GOD’S PRAIRIE” 


The Colorful Prairies—Lord Selkirk’s Settlement—The 
Red River Rebellion—Winnipeg, the Magic City— 
The Valley of the Assiniboine—Portage la Prairie— 
An Indian Story—Brandon, the ‘Wheat City’— 
Lovely Lake Killarney—Lake Winnipeg’s Popular 
Beaches—Lake Manitoba, “Prairie Water’—Along 
Lake Winnipegosis—The Grand Rapids of the Sas- 
katchewan—The Legend of the Singing Birds—The 
Pas, Gateway to the North—Historic York Factory— 
Port Nelson, on Hudson Bay—The Great Churchill 
River—A Legend of Southern Indian Lake—The 
MPR COWUTIPNOLE yu cot Muar ents eft el Nt ESO 


xi CONTENTS 
VII 
COLORFUL SASKATCHEWAN 


Prairie Gold—The Legend of Qu’Appelle—Lovely Regina 
—Medicine-water at Little Manitou—Moose Jaw’s 
Name—At Swift Current—The Loon Legend of 
Cypress Hills—The Wonder-city of Saskatoon—On 
Big Manitou Lake — Historic Battleford — Prince 
Albert, the Gateway—A Prairie Legend—Treaty 
Money at Ile a la Crosse—The Mighty Churchill 
River—Reindeer Lake—An Indian Fishing Secret— 
Lake Athabasca—The mis of Cree Lake—Indian 
ChildrentiW ail. : OL 


PAGE 


VIII 
LOVELY ALBERTA 


A Chipewyan Legend—The Great Peace River—Fort 
McMurray—The Legend of Lesser Slave Lake— 
In Jasper National Park—The Athabasca Trail— 
Miette Hot Springs— Romantic Lac Beauvert— 
Mount Edith Cavell—The Athabasca Falls—The 
Legend of Maligne Canyon—Indian Magic at 
Pyramid Mountain—In Tonquin Valley—Yellow- 
head Pass—Edmonton, the Capital—Calgary and the 
South—Over Crow’s Nest Pass—Waterton Lakes 
National Park—Rocky Mountains National Parks— 
The Famous Banff District—Legends of Lake Minne- 
wanka—At Lake Louise—The Savane of the Ten 
Peaksarksauie . eee 


IX 
BRITISH COLUMBIA’S GRANDEUR 


Yoho National Park—The Road to Emerald Lake— 
Takakkaw Falls—The Legend of Twin Falls—Koo- 


CONTENTS Xill 


PAGE 
tenay National Park—The Beautiful Columbia—A 
Legend of Arrow Lakes—The Kootenay Country— 
Glacier National Park—Revelstoke National Park— 
The Okanagan Country—Thompson River Canyons 
—The Mighty Fraser—Cariboo Gold—The Lilliooet 
Country — A Legend of Mount Garibaldi — Van- 
couver, the Metropolis — On Vancouver Island— 
Lovely Victoria—Legends of the Queen Charlotte 
Islands—The Superb Coast—The City of Prince Ru- 
pert—Along the Skeena—Totem-poles at Kitwanga— 
The Bulkley Valley—At Prince George—Mount 
Robson Park—The ae of Whitehorn—The 
Great Atlin District. . 241 


xX 
GOLDEN YUKON 


The Klondike Stampede — The Royal North-West 
Mounted Police—Beautiful Lake Bennett—Miailes 
Canyon and Whitehorse Rapids—At Whitehorse— 
Kluane Lake and the St. Elias Range—The Teslin 
Lake District—The Charm of Quiet Lake—Five 
Finger Rapids—Fort Selkirk and the Pelly River— 

A Legend of White River—Valleys of Gold—Daw- 
son, the Capital—At Fortymile—The Great North 
—An Eskimo Legend—‘“The Spell of the Yukon” . 293 


XI 
THE LURE OF THE NORTH 


The Northwest Territories — Where Eskimos Meet— 
The Provisional District of Keewatin—At Baker 
Lake—A Legend of Bubawnt Lake—The Great Fish 
River—“Rupert’s Land’”—The Provisional District 
of Mackenzie—A Legend of Great Slave Lake—The 


XIV 


CONTENTS 


Coppermine River—A Mosquito Legend—The Mac- 
kenzie River—A Legend of Great Bear Lake—The 
Ramparts of the Mackenzie—The Hare Indians— 
The Provisional District of Franklin—The Franklin 
‘Tragedy—The Great North * >.) ae 


XII 
CANADIAN NATIONAL PARKS 


Fort Anne—Fort Howe—Point Pelee—Menissawok— 


Wawaskesey — Nemiskam — Buffalo — Elk Island— 
Jasper—Rocky Mountains—Waterton Lakes—Yoho 
—lKootenay—Glacier—Revelstoke . ... , 


AITI 
SCENIC ROADS FOR MOTORISTS 


Motoring in Canada—The Trans-Canada Highway—In 


APPENDIX ° ° e e ’ e 4 @ ° ’ ° ‘ 


INDEX) eat 2 Ae eee 


Picturesque Nova Scotia—Forest Roads in New 
Brunswick—Some Quebec Roads—The Niagara Falls 
Gateway—The Blue Water Highway—Manitoba 
Highways—Prairie Roads in Saskatchewan—The 
Grand Circle—The California-Banff Bee Line—The 
Grand Canyon Route—The Canadian Rockies Circle 
—The Banff-Windermere Highway—The Golden 
Highway—On the Cariboo Trail—The Malahat 
Drive—In the National Parks . 


PAGE 


319 


RR 


- 355 
- 373 


iS) 2 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


A Charming View of Lake Louise 


Bras d’Or Lake 

Middlehead Point . 

Where Waves Blow High 
The Nova Scotia Coast 

A Tree-lovely Road : 
The Twin Falls of the Pokiok 
A Log-Drive on the Miramichi 
The Giant’s Head . 

Where the North Shore Ends . 
An Island Sunset - 
Cap Bon Ami, Gaspé Peninsula 
Bird Rock, Bonaventure Island 
Fishing in the Laurentian Mountains 
Fraser Falls, Murray Bay . 
Montmorency Falls 

On the Lower St. Lawrence 
The Muskoka Lakes 

Beautiful Lake Nipissing . 


The Winnipeg River, at Minaki . 
XV 


Frontispiece 


FACING PAGE 
IO 


II 
20 
ai 
38 
39 
52 
53 
66 
67 
82 
83 
94 
95 
104 
105 
126 
127 


142 


Ry | ILLUSTRATIONS 


The Kakabeka Falls, near Fort William 
In Quetico Park 

Fishing for Gray Trout 

Sunset on Lake Killarney . 

A Prairie River 

A Saskatchewan Lake . 
Harvesting on the Prairie . : 
Pyramid Mountain, Jasper Park . 
Lac Beauvert at Sunset 

Mount Edith Cavell, Jasper Park 
A Sunlit Stretch of Lac Beauvert 
Sunset on the Athabasca 
Sheep-ranching in Alberta . 

In Waterton Lakes National Park 
Mount Assiniboine 

Lake Louise Bere: 
The Motor-Road to Moraine Lake 
Takakkaw Falls, Yoho Valley 

A Rocky Giant in Yoho Park . 

In Kootenay National Park 
Where the Portage Begins 
Rainbow Falls . 

The Meeting of the Waters 
Capilano Canyon and the Lions 


Siwash Rock, Vancouver 


FACING PAGE 


143 
152 
153 
170 
171 
190 
IQI 
208 
209 
214 
Ne 9 
B22 
223 
228 
229 
%) 4236 
237 
246 
247 
252 
253 
260 
261 
266 
267 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


An Island Lake 
Pyramid Falls . 


Where Whitehorn Lifts above Kinney Lake . 


Totem-Poles at Kitwanga . 

Majestic Mount Robson 

Atop o’ the World . 

The Famous Whitehorse Rapids 

A Yukon Lake . é 

The Ramparts of the Mackenzie . 
Caribou Island . my) 
Tumbling Glacier and Berg Lake . 

The Illecillewaet Glacier . 

The Glory of Emerald Lake . 
Vermilion Falls, Kootenay National Park 
Along the Banff-Windermere Highway . 
On the Trans-Canada Highway . 

A Luring Road in Yoho Park 
Flower-meadows and Glaciers 

The Malahat Drive, Vancouver Island 


Cameron Lake . 


XVII 
FACING PAGE 
272 
273 
280 
281 
288 
289 
310 
311 
330 
331 
344 
345 
350 
351 
358 
359 
364 
365 
368 
369 




















J at ' cA \ } a tate phd aloe a Oh DEANS a oo No ie 
Ny aareete year tee Si aK Sap a th AY 
Lvs j Lae Va aD) i 7 ihe tf ie ht ped 
i 4, Te aa WEE eH AiTs* Whe MF | ue Wy Wi 
BAG CUM MOU OPIS A AL ADU Ru 
(WaT na AMAL" V0) ah eis Ait 
seat Vp pee ha Rae i 
' . t r i ' 
Yi ey 8 
i { h 1 ) Aye.) 
et he, nih 
j , tt ; 7 oh. 
\ ly SOOM OAS cin ied if i yr dh) 
ha J ith Bo | tins 5 yy nih se) } Rit aC if iy J 
iit PRN Wa D EO) Matis hey ; 
i ; +4) Bike *s OLN hee Ave it) ‘f ‘ 
ty , } i OE a a Pe Ta a f Al ty " 4) 
Bre 1 ey Ne ott te we wit, id Wis | 
fe ms rae x nN, Dy), ing 7 
DUS Nae 
, j is aN Tt ’ 
1 Wai + 
$ i {7 + 4 ,? , ‘ an 
{ i ‘ ah 
; ' F ee cag 
‘ had 
| YEU 
; 
ia they i \ re te 
ij 
i f 
j A ( ‘iN 7 ‘ 
" 
NA v ie tb vid ‘ a ihe 
(} ; ' uP ( ret f Rh es oe ah lin 
PAE t (ety \ A) af ” Rt ire v ey, bi ia a 
: HU ‘i cv Fibiiabs di 
; ‘ : ; se ok 
vee cai PAM ive if ‘ 
\ 4 ’ Ca 
j : Lay uy Aina Wht 
{lc Aes & } p ; a ‘| NOR ’ Cty he ? 
t 1 Ps , ; vat \ 4 Ld 
| ) Sh OER DUR ae 
} ) ; i 4 
Pi! id 4 is i 
: ty Ws We vat oli f 
Wes sth shat) PRA kes a mL ; ia 
‘i | | LT ee Re cya a "* ; 





I. DELIGHTFUL NOVA SCOTIA 


THE LuRE OF CAPE BRETON ISLAND 
RucceD INGONIsH Bay 

THE LEGEND OF SMOKY CAPE 
BEAUTIFUL BRAS D’OR 

SYDNEY’s Busy HARBOR 

‘THE RacGeD COAST 

Historic LOUISBOURG 

THE LEGEND OF CANsO GUT 

From MaArGAREE TO CHETICAMP 
LOvELY CHEDABUCTO BAY 

HAirax, “THE CITY BY THE SEA” 
PIRATE GOLD IN MAHONE Bay 

‘THE FAMOUS SOUTH SHORE 
YARMOUTH, THE DELIGHTFUL GATEWAY 
DIGBY AND CHERRY-LAND 

THE LEGEND OF ANNAPOLIS BASIN 
‘THE RUINS OF ForT ANNE 

VALLEYS OF MacIc 

LEGENDS OF THE BASIN OF MINAS 

Up Cosequip Bay 

ALONG THE NORTHUMBERLAND STRAIT 
WHERE FUNDY AND CHIGNECTO MEET 


6 


Ay =! 


« 


‘ 
i] 


et ivy rei Lind > why aye a ad 
voc, i 


Ws 


; Ny C Real py 
RT A EE Ane 
' A Hiya 0} 1 ie a 





i) eT ah bir aed i 
La. nt ee 
iA whet 5 


‘ ane, wae ie acne 
2.) ah ry 
Vat: meyer pa wen 
Lint AMG | rea 
mee \ Ah N's ith it 
‘ahh DR ats 
Seo i Nah Yat 
" ht ARM AMD ae 
yea Dine f 
ay: mid une te ag ae 


Utes ty 


mean Tak 
































BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


I 
DELIGHTFUL NOVA SCOTIA 


“The fields are full of little lakes, 
And when the romping wind awakes 
The water ruffles blue and shakes, 
And the pines roar on the hill.” 
—Archibald Lampman 


HERE is no part of Nova Scotia’s rugged 

coast or her peaceful valleys that is not 

steeped in the history and the romance of 
the past thousand years. 

In the very long ago, ‘“‘in the days of the grand- 
fathers,” Nova Scotia was a vast wilderness, and 
Micmac Indians wandered through the forests, fished 
in the abundant lakes and streams, and pitched their 
tepees in delightful places where Glooscap, the 
pleasure-loving demigod, would surely visit them with 
blessings and keep away the fearsome Witch-people. 

Across a stretch of rolling blue water lay Greenland, 
and there the Beothuk tribe worshiped the Sun, but 
made their offerings—of food, shell beads, such pit- 
lable things as they possessed—to the Wind, as an 
evil god whom they feared and hoped to appease. On 

3 


4 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


some bare cliff, jutting upon the sea, they laid their 
treasure, muttering a rhythmic prayer which the howl- 
ing of the Wind-god drowned as he swept the gift 
off, into the keeping of the Sea-god. Sometimes the 
greedy Sea-god refused to give up the treasure, and 
then it was that he and the Wind-god fought and the 
Sea leaped high to strike back at the Wind. 

Micmacs still roam over Nova Scotia; but the Beo- 
thuks are no more. It may be that they grew careless 
in these offerings; for certainly it was the beginning 
of the end for them when their evil god, the Wind, blew 
upon the sails of a Viking ship, in 986 A.D., and sent 
it far out of its course until a strange and unknown 
shore was sighted—the rugged, irregular, beautiful 
shore of Nova Scotia. 

When the Norse ship speeded back with its in- 
credible tales, no one was more stirred than was Eric 
the Red, a brave sea-rover, a ruthless and lawless 
pirate. But Eric was now an old man, too old to fight 
the mountainous seas and the monsters of the deep 
who, he believed, came up to devour any who ventured 
into their realm. So to his three sons this aged Viking 
told such tales of the wonderland beyond the seas that 
their blood, too, was stirred, and they got ready their 
ship and set sail, in roo1, with Leif Erickson in com- 
mand. 

The spring storms came and swirled their boat 
about, the drifting icebergs all but crushed it, and the 
fog for days closed in, smothering them with its muggy 


DELIGHTFUL NOVA SCOTIA 5 


gray tentacles; but these were fearless Vikings, and 
they swept on, while 


“Ye Billowes boyl’d & ye Stormes howl’d after— 
But ye Tempeste to them was onlie Laughter— 
They plough’d theare Boate thro’ ye roaring Deepe, 
Nor lett ye Blastes disturbe theare Sleepe.” 


At last they came “‘to a Launde al greene & Fayre,” 
and named it Vinland because of the tangle of wild- 
grape vines and a veritable jungle of cranberry-bushes. 
Their Vinland extended as far south as present Rhode 
Island; but the first shore to be visited, where grapes 
and cranberries were plentiful, was the delightful land 
that today is Nova Scotia. 

Other Vikings followed; and, much later, Breton 
and Basque fishermen sailed their brave little craft 
across the sea; but to John Cabot fell the honor of dis- 
covery when, in 1497, he landed upon Cape Breton 
Island, on what is now Cape North, but which he 
named Cape Discovery. For this exploit, Henry VII, 
hugely pleased, awarded the sum of ten pounds to 
“hyme that founde ye Newe Launde.” And Cape 
Breton Island, so long the secret fishing-grounds of 
Breton and Basque, became now the magnet that drew 
all nations; for behind it, they believed, lay the water- 
path to rich Cathay. 

Today Cape Breton is still a magnet. It is a magic 
land; there is an enchantment about its forests and 
streams, its deep bays and lovely lakes, that ever lures 
one back. ‘There are hills, that run up to the height 


6 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


of mountains. There are flower-strewn meadows 
with brooks chattering through them. There are 
smiling lakes and rugged, wave-beaten shores. High 
in the forests are rocky gorges with streams frothing 
down, or picturesque glens where the water lingers, 
loth to leave its tree-fringed pools. 

The rocky island of St. Paul, which Cabot named 
L’tle Saint-Jean, lies about twelve miles off the north- 
ern coast of Cape Breton Island, raising its head above 
the water where it may look upon both gulf and ocean. 
St. Paul is a favorite with fishermen, and with artists, 
too, for they find never-ending joy in the beauty of its 
coasts where surf pounds in against the rocks. 

Cape North, reaching out toward the island of St. 
Paul, is the northernmost point of Cape Breton main- 
land. It is a high and rugged promontory, with the 
Atlantic beating against it on one side and, on the other, 
St. Lawrence Bay, softening the force of the waves 
that roll in from the Gulf of St. Lawrence. | 

As far south as St. Ann Bay the coast is a wild one 
of wave-lashed rocks, of coves and little inlets made 
by the ocean storming in to claim the land, and of 
delightful gorges where streams come tumbling down 
with their burden of hill-water. 

The first deep indentation on the eastern coast, south 
of Cape North, is Aspy Bay. Here, the Micmacs say, 
a sea-monster lived, while a forest-monster roamed 
about the shore. These two were always fight- 
ing; the sea-monster would spout water up on land 
and the forest-monster, in his rage, would kick dirt 


DELIGHTFUL NOVA SCOTIA i 


into the water. This displeased Glooscap, and he 
turned them both into cliffs, placing one on the north 
side of Aspy Bay and one on the south side. And 
there they remain to this day, glaring at each other 
across the smiling blue water. Aspy Bay runs far in- 
land, and is fringed with coves and deep-cut cliffs. 
Hills, steep and irregular, curve about the bay, and 
trees and broken precipices edge the water. 

South of Aspy is Ingonish Bay, far-famed for its 
rugged loveliness. In the very midst of it a long point 
of land runs out to the ocean, cutting the bay into two 
harbors, ever picturesque with fishing-fleets, and wholly 
charming in their coloring. ‘The bright-white houses 
of the fisherfolk, clinging to the foot of the hills, are 
framed above with the changing green of the trees, 
and below with the ever-changing blue of the water. 
There are many allurements here for the vacationist— 
shooting in the hills, trout-fishing in the streams, 
deep-sea fishing, lobster-spearing, surf-bathing and 
boating. 

Many years ago a French cruiser foundered on the 
rocks off this coast, and soon the waves that swept in 
with the tide left behind them a scattering of golden 
coins. Those were exciting days. Everything else was 
forgotten while the inhabitants rushed out to Money 
Point to fish for gold. A rod with a pitch-smeared end 
was thrashed about the waves, and among the many 
things that clung to it would sometimes be a French 
coin. 

Shutting Ingonish Bay in on the south is a high preci- 


8 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


pice which still bears the name given to it by the early 
Breton fishermen, who called it Cap Enfumé because 
the ascending mist has the appearance of rising smoke. 
Fishermen of today know it affectionately as ‘Old 
Smoky.” 

A Micmac legend claims that, long ago, in the moon 
of the many berries, their chiefs gathered on top of 
this precipice for a powwow; and while they sat and 
smoked their huge pipes they bestowed a worthy name 
upon any Indian lad who had earned it. One chief 
told of a bear his son had hunted, battled and slain; 
and they agreed to name the boy Big Bear. Another 
told of a great wind that swept down from the heights, 
ready to swamp a canoe; this chief’s son had stood on 
the cliff and, at the risk of being dashed over, held 
back the wind with a fan of fir-branches in each hand; 
and he was then named Great Fir-Tree. One by one, 
the chiefs recounted the heroic deeds of their sons. 
But when the time came for the last chief to speak, he 
was silent: there was nothing he could say, for his son 
was a coward. ‘The chiefs taunted him; and in his 
great shame he rushed and threw himself over the cliff. 
But the Sea-god caught him before he reached the 
water; for he would have no coward’s father in his 
realm. He placed the chief at the foot of the cliff, 
and told him that there he should stay until his son 
did perform a brave deed. And so to this day the poor 
chief is there, smoking his mighty pipe and ever wait- 
ing; those who go near the cliff say they can even hear 
him calling to his son—but it may be only the sound of 


DELIGHTFUL NOVA SCOTIA 9 


the waves and the wind, softened a bit by the ghost- 
gray mist. 

St. Ann Bay, south of Smoky Cape, ends in St. 
Ann Harbour, which lies, almost land-locked, a 
lovely sea of wind-rippled green, its ragged shores 
running back into the low hills in many coves and 
crooked inlets. 

Below St. Ann Bay two channels carry the ocean- 
water into Bras d’Or Lake, hugging between them as 
they wind inland the long and irregular Boularderi 
Island, sandy, tree-covered and lovely. 

The Bras d’Or is an immense arm of the sea that 
spreads its more than four hundred and fifty square 
miles into the very heart of Cape Breton Island. 
Wooded hills roll back from the shores; cultivated 
farms and meadows run down to the water; white 
houses, framed in the green of trees and grass, are 
splashed with color by gay flower-patches. Sail-boats 
dot the lake, their lilting white dipping against the 
green. Odd-shaped little islands crop up, unexpectedly 
and delightfully, and mirror their trees, in rippled and 
silver-green shadows, in the loveliness below. 

The earliest French name for this superb inland sea 
was Lac de Labrador; but so exquisite is the coloring 
of the lake at sunrise, a great expanse of molten gold, 
that Labrador easily became Le Bras d’Or. 

The lakes, Great and Little Bras d’Or, with their 
bays and channels, their irregular, winding waterways, 
all but divide Cape Breton into two islands; and this 
cleavage has been completed by the cutting of St. 


IO BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


Peter’s Canal through the one narrow neck of land at 
the southern end. 

A much-loved village, spread out on the shores of 
Bras d’Or Lake, is Whycocomagh. Back of it are 
softly rolling hills; in the foreground a crescent-shaped 
bay, dotted with islands; each vista of sea and islands 
and hills like a lovely, warm-toned painting. 

Baddeck, perched on the rocky crags that rise from 
St. Patrick Channel, is the gateway to a region of many 
charms. Luring roads lead up into the hills, one of 
them winding past the picturesque Uisge-Ban Falls 
where the water rushes down in a cataract of spray. 
Other roads dip through to the ocean, following up its 
rugged coast. Many Indians come from their reserva- 
tion in the summer and camp near Baddeck, to dispose 
of their excellent services as guides and canoe- 
men, and to sell the attractive baskets and bead-work 
they have fashioned during the winter. They are 
forgetting many of their legends of “the days of the 
newness of things,’’ but some of the old tales still are 
told. One legend explains how Loch Lomond, beyond 
Bras d’Or Lake, came to be. In the long-ago a giant 
Wolf roamed through the forests eating up Indian 
children. When Glooscap learned this he changed 
him into an animal smaller than the squirrel. Little 
Wolf sat down and cried and cried, and his tears 
formed this big lake before Glooscap changed him 
again to wolf-size. 

For sheer beauty and romance Bras d’Or will ever 
remain supreme; but for fame it must give way to 





Courtesy, Canaaian National Kys. 


BRAS D’OR LAKE 
The great arm of*the sea that is the heart of Cape Breton Island. 





és 


Courtesy, Canadian National Rys. 


MIDDLEHEAD POINT 
A quiet cove where the ocean creeps up in Ingonish Harbour. 


DELIGHTFUL NOVA SCOTIA I! 


Sydney Harbour, once known as Spanish Bay. This is 
one of the finest natural harbors in the world. Its 
beauty now is that of commercialism, for steel and coal 
have claimed it. Ships from all parts of the world 
come here; the harbor teems with activity; and there is 
a touch of picturesqueness in the innumerable yachts 
and smaller boats that constantly come and go. The 
town of Sydney, climbing back from the harbor, was 
founded by colonists from the United States at the 
close of the American Revolution, and was the capital 
of the province of Cape Breton until that island be- 
came part of Nova Scotia in 1820. Today it is a 
lovely city, with gay green hedges, and great 
trees framing ever-changing scenes in the busy harbor. 

Lying in the ocean about one hundred miles east 
of Sydney are the French islands of St. Pierre and 
Miquelon, all that remains of France’s once great 
empire in North America. A world unto themselves, 
their interests centered in their fishing, these islands 
are wholly unique; and a visit to them will be filled with 
interest and charm. A boat plies fortnightly between 
Sydney and St. Pierre. 

The entire eastern peninsula of Cape Breton Island 
is so ragged that it is made up of one bay after another, 
separated only by long points of broken rock that 
run out into the sea. The inrushing waves dash upon 
these rocks, only to fall back in flying spray; the out- 
going tide lingers about them, curling in their crevices, 
leaving their clean-washed hollows flecked with foam. 

Mira Bay, in this ragged east coast, is famous for 


12 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


its leaping tuna—the giant albacore, weighing from 
five hundred to eight hundred pounds. But Mira Bay 
also is a place of sheer loveliness. Seascapes that 
delight the artist are here. The long, narrow, charm- 
ingly irregular Mira Lake winds down into the island 
in an uncertain and erratic course until the upcropping 
of the Mira Hills sends it curving back toward the sea. 

Scatari Island, lying offshore, is the most easterly 
point of the Maritime Provinces. Long before Breton 
fishermen made Scatari Island their rendezvous the 
Micmacs—then known as the Souricois—gathered here 
once a year for a fishing jubilee. First the fleetest 
young men of the tribe ran a race, and the winner then 
became ruler of the island for the days that they re- 
mained; all had to obey him, his temporary name being 
the name of the first fish he caught A few days were 
given over to feasting and dancing. “Thay goe not 
out of one place when thay Dance, & make certaine 
gestures & motions of ye Body, first lifting vp one 
Foote & then another, stamping vpon ye Grounde.”’ 
Then came the fishing contest, each man striving to 
carry home the greatest load of all. 

Below Cape Breton—the little out-thrust of land 
from which the entire island gets its name—is historic 
Louisbourg, where the ruins of the once-important 
fort and the crumbling walls of the old French city 
still may be seen. The life of this fort was brief and 
tragic. 

When Nova Scotia was ceded to England by the 
Treaty of Utrecht in 1713, Cape Breton Island 


DELIGHTFUL NOVA SCOTIA 13 


remained with France; and to this haven many of the 
Acadians fled when they were compelled either to leave 
their own much-loved land or to swear allegiance to 
England and take up arms, if need be, against their 
mother France. Joined by French from Newfound- 
land, they built and strongly fortified Louisbourg, 
which soon became an important port and the capital 
of L’isle Royale, as Cape Breton Island then was called 
—in Champlain’s day it had been L’isle de St. Lau- 
rence. As the years sped past, Louisbourg grew in 
greatness. hither came vessels freighted with cargo 
from the West Indies, vessels with supplies and muni- 
tions from France; and thither sped ships for refuge 
when chased by British men-o’-war on the high seas. 

In 1745, England and France being at war, some 
daring New Englanders decided to swoop upon this 
stronghold of the enemy. ‘The fort was considered 
impregnable, and it was valiantly defended by the 
French and their Indian allies; but the New Englander 
of 1745 was no different from the New Englander of 
today—what he went after he managed to get—and 
it is not surprising that the British flag soon was flying 
from the citadel of Louisbourg and Colonel Pepperell 
was taking tally of his prisoners. 

Three years later, Louisbourg was returned to the 
French in exchange for Madras; and ten years later, 
1758, England and France again being at each other’s 
throat, a powerful fleet crossed from England and, 
after nearly two months of bombardment, the town 
once more was taken. ‘The fort, already in ruins, 


14 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


was now dismantled, the French inhabitants shipped to 
France, and the city utterly destroyed. 

This is merely an outline of its eventful life. The 
tragedies of those days of siege, the splendid heroism 
of the French women as well as the men in the dis- 
tressed fort, the unswerving loyalty of the Indians— 
all of these linger poignantly about the sod-grown 
ruins; for though the fort and the brave little city are 
gone, the spirit of those heroic men and women, many 
of them still sleeping here, will ever remain. 

Arichat Island, whose unattractive name is now 
Madame Island, from the French Isle Madame, lies 
off the southern coast of Cape Breton Island, and 
spreads its shores out in a series of long points of land, 
like a deep and uneven fringe. ‘These knife-blade 
peninsulas are sandy, tree-covered, and entirely lovely. 
On the east the fringe is broken by a crescent-shaped 
bay, as rugged and as inviting as its name, Bay of 
Rocks, indicates. 

Separating Cape Breton Island from Nova Scotia 
peninsula there is a deep, natural channel, the Gut 
of Canso; and this, a Micmac legend claims, was made 
by the demigod Glooscap. Flying over the ocean in 
the form of a hawk, a high wave caught him and 
carried him under water. There his magic power 
suddenly deserted him and he would have been 
drowned had not Cod swum with him to land. Gloos- 
cap in gratitude offered Cod anything that he desired; 
and Cod could think of nothing more delightful than 


DELIGHTFUL NOVA SCOTIA 15 


a broad waterway here, so that he might swim at will 
back and forth between ocean and gulf. 

A railway runs up through the very heart of Cape 
Breton Island, making almost any part of it easily 
accessible, connecting, as it does, with the two steam- 
ships which call at all the important ports. 

Beyond the great mining center of Nabou Harbour, 
on the scenic west coast of the island, the villages are 
fewer, the forests deeper, and the landscapes lovelier. 
Margaree River, famous for its trout and salmon 
and the pastoral beauty of its valley-land, is an outlet 
for Lake Ainslie, which spreads its broad arms across 
almost to join Bras d’Or. Another branch of the 
Margaree rushes down from the north, cutting around 
a range of hills in delightful windings, with trees 
crowding upon its shores and boulders cropping out of 
its wide and often shallow bed. Beyond Margaree 
Harbour ranges of hills begin, and extend northward 
to the end of the island. 

Eastern Harbour, almost completely shut in by 
Cheticamp Island, is colorful and lovely. It vies 
with Ingonish Bay in its ruggedness. Cliffs and 
wooded hills run up from the water, cut by gorges 
where creeks splash down; and scattered against the 
background of rich green trees are the houses where 
the fisherfolk live. For two centuries the Acadians 
have been here, in a little world of their own, shut 
in by hills and sea; and the simplicity of their lives, 
their delightful naiveté, is one of the charms of the 
Cheticamp region. 


16 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


The wildest scenery on the island is found in the 
heavily timbered hill-ranges that fold upon one another 
from Eastern Harbour to Cape North. Crystal- 
clear streams add to the loveliness of these wooded 
slopes; and the knowledge that gold lies tucked away 
in the rocks quickens the interest in them. 


“I must go down to the sea again, for the call of the 
running tide 

Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be 
denied ; 

And all I ask is a windy day and the white clouds 
flying, 

And the flung spray and blown spume, and the sea- 
gulls crying.” 


An ideal place to “go down to the sea,’’ and one 
of the most delightful harbors on the Nova Scotia 
coast, is Chedabucto Bay. Even its name is music. 
Many poets have sung of this “‘silver-gray sea’; and 
artists have lingered, attempting to reproduce the 
beauty of its rugged shores. 

From Chedabucto Bay southward to Halifax 
Harbour—formerly Chebucto Bay—the coast is an 
ever-changing one. In the midst of winding channels, 
craggy islands, sandbars and shoals, are fine deep 
harbors. There are many rocky ledges that lie dry at 
low-water, many lovely beaches where the Atlantic 
curls in and leaves a burden of sand as it washes out. 
Sheet Harbour—its name from a sheet-like cliff at its 
entrance—and Owl’s Head Harbour could tell tragic 


DELIGHTFUL NOVA SCOTIA 13 


tales of the old days, when brigs came speeding in, 
all canvas spread, crashed upon hidden shoals, and 
immediately went down. 

One of the world’s finest harbors is at Halifax. 
When the French were strengthening their fortifica- 
tions at Louisbourg, two centuries ago, the Massa- 
chusetts Bay Colony saw the necessity for an equally 
strong English fort on the peninsula of Nova Scotia. 
The splendid harbor of Chebucto Bay—Micmac for 
“Chief Haven’’—was an ideal site; but not until 1749 
was Halifax actually founded, and only a few years 
later christened in blood, when the Indians, ever the 
friends of the French, gathered in the Basin of Minas, 
ascended the Shubenacadie, and fell upon the city with 
their merciless tomahawks. But that showed the 
weakness of the town, and its real fortification then 
began. Halifax soon became a formidable stronghold 
that played a large part in all the succeeding wars. 
Today it is the greatest British military and naval 
station in the two Americas. 

Halifax is an Old World city, charmingly English 
in atmosphere. It is ‘“The City by the Sea,” built 
on a hill overlooking its broad and stately harbor, 
climbing back to Bedford Basin, and clinging, on the 
other side, to the picturesque Northwest Arm, which 
perhaps, some day, may be given again its more poetic 
Indian name. 

With so many bays on this ragged east coast of 
Nova Scotia there would seem a sameness; and yet 
each is lovely in its own way; each has its own indi- 


18 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


viduality, its own personality. St. Margaret, par- 
ticularly, has a charm that is in no way dimmed by the 
romantic beauty of its neighbors, Mahone Bay and 
Chester Basin. 

In Mahone Bay the pulse quickens, the breath is 
suspended a bit, not merely because of the beauty— 
and with more than three hundred islands there is 
loveliness aplenty—but because here, it is claimed, 
Captain Kidd’s gold, his chests of jewels and pieces 
of eight, lie buried. 

Many years ago a fisherman had a dream, and in 
it he saw himself being lowered into a pit, which, to 
his surprise, led to a tunnel under the sea; and at the 
end of the tunnel he came upon chests of gold. The 
Indians are great believers in dreams. “Thay beleeue 
that all ye dreames which thay dreame are true.” 
They assured the fisherman that not only must such a 
tunnel exist but the opening to it, perhaps covered 
over with the débris of years, would be on Oak Island, 
in Mahone Bay. So to Oak Island, even to this day, 
go the treasure-seekers, sinking shafts, hoping to reach 
pirate gold. It is claimed, too, that the ghosts of 
Kidd’s men haunt this island; and that is offered as 
further proof that the treasure surely must be there. 

Nova Scotia’s South Shore is famous for its beauty. 
It is made up of ragged points, bays running deeply 
inland, islands lying offshore, sand-dunes piling and 
unpiling, the ocean lapping in to meet rivers and creeks 
which rush down through spruce and balsam and oak 
woods. Inshore there is a water-tangled wildwood. 


DELIGHTFUL NOVA SCOTIA 19 


Myriads of lakes, and streams and rivulets, are 
scattered everywhere. Rossignol, the largest of the 
lakes, is nearly twelve miles long; and one of the rivers 
tumbling into it winds down through the hills from 
Kedgemakooge Lake, lying in the heart of moose 
pastures and trout streams, and so delicately beautiful 
that it is known as Fairy Lake. Canoeists find great 
delight in this region. 

The railway, clinging to the Atlantic coast from 
Halifax to Yarmouth, affords a comfortable way to 
view the rugged South Shore; but to know the real 
charm of this unique region, one must wander off into 
the pine and spruce woods where the many lakes are, 
and where, in the spring, Nova Scotia’s own flower, 
the trailing arbutus, fills the air with perfume; or one 
must cruise along the shore, landing occasionally to 
explore some lonely cove, or one of the many sandy, 
wave-washed islands. 

Cape Sable Island, off the southern tip of the. pen- 
insula, was first settled by Acadians, but at the time 
Louisbourg was destroyed they were driven out, and 
its next settlers were Tories from the United States. 
The Acadians have found their way back, and have 
now their delightful little fishing villages along the 
shores. This island, because of its name, is some- 
times confused with Sable Island, which lies alone in 
the ocean, about a hundred and fifty miles, slightly 
southeast, from Halifax. 

This curious Sable Island is composed of sand-dunes 


20 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


thrown up by the ocean, its mainland being now about 
twenty miles long and one mile wide, with a ten-mile 
lake in the center. During the days following Cabot’s 
widely published discovery of ‘‘ye Newe Launde,”’ 
Portuguese fishermen hastened across the seas, and on 
this island they made their headquarters. It then was 
nearly a hundred miles long, and horses were brought 
over, to cover the distances, and cattle and sheep to 
supply food. 

In 1598 the Marquis de la Roche set sail grandly 
from France with a shipful of criminals, loosed from 
French prisons, to colonize the new land of Acadie. 
His lawless passengers proved none too pleasant com- 
pany on the voyage across; and when Sable Island was 
sighted, de la Roche hastily dumped his convict- 
colonists here while he sailed on, ostensibly to select 
a favorable site. A storm, charitable historians say, 
carried him back to France as quickly as he could get 
there, his colony deserted in mid-ocean. Driftwood 
from the many wrecks was used for crude shelter; wild 
cattle, relics of the Portuguese, formed a change in 
diet from the plentiful fish; and abundant sealskins 
afforded warm clothing. But the monotony began to 
weary these convicts, and for pastime they took to 
murdering one another. When at last a Normandy 
fishing sloop passed that way, only twelve of the sixty 
remained to be taken back to France. It is claimed 
that a Franciscan monk whom de la Roche left with the 
convicts was so heart-torn by their ghastly deeds that 
he refused to go back to a civilized world, and spent 





Courtesy, N. S. Publicity Bureau 


WHERE WAVES BLOW HIGH 
With an inshore wind, the sea is wild and magnificent. 





Courtesy, Canadian National Rys. 


THE NOVA SCOTIA COAST 
Wave-battered rocks alternate with beaches of cream-yellow sand. 


DELIGHTFUL NOVA SCOTIA 21 


the remainder of his days on Sable Island. Here, on 
moonlight nights, when the fog swirls low, he still may 
be seen, mariners say; and on almost any night one 
can hear his voice, wailing on the wind as the sand 
rolls in with the sea. 

So many ships were wrecked on Sable Island that 
it became known as “‘the graveyard of the Atlantic.” 
To arrest its constantly changing shape, which was 
in itself a great menace, the Canadian Government in 
1901 planted thousands of spruce and juniper trees, 
fruit trees and berry bushes, and covered the shores 
with root-binding grasses. And now, instead of barren 
sand-dunes, it is an island of rare loveliness, set in the 
midst of the sea. 

The many islands south of Yarmouth were formerly 
the refuge of storm-petrels. A writer of a century 
ago tells of the amazement of mariners when they saw 
these “Mother Cary’s chickens’ burrowing nests in 
the ground. ‘They had believed that the storm-bird 
laid her egg on the ocean, quickly dived and caught 
it beneath her wing, and there held it until it was 
hatched. | 

The city of Halifax is English; Lunenburg, to the 
south, is German; but Yarmouth is wholly and delight- 
fully Canadian. It is a charming city, with its famous 
hawthorn hedges, and its broad and pleasant harbor. 
In front are the islands—masses of green, at high 
tide, dipping their feet in the water; at low tide, broad 
beaches and ledges of rock, scarcely separated by the 
shallow channels. Behind the city are the hills, with 


oe ) BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


their trout and salmon streams and their many moose 
haunts enticing the sportsman. There are luring 
motor-roads, too, that follow the coast or climb up 
and down the winding hills, leading off through forests 
of fragrant spruce, or shadowy birch-woods where 
the undergrowth of sassafras and ferns and blueberry- 
bushes is a mass of tangled loveliness; but these truant 
roads ever dip back for a glimpse of the sea. 

Yarmouth, because of its direct steamship connec- 
tion with Boston, is one of the gateways to Nova 
Scotia; and certainly it is a delightful one. Another 
gateway, entered from St. John, New Brunswick, is 
Digby. 

Between Yarmouth and Digby there is a peaceful 
farming country where Acadians, returned after exile, 
took up again their interrupted lives. ‘Their descend- 
ants cling to the old speech and to many of the quaint 
and delightful customs of Evangeline’s day. Off to 
the left, Long and Bear Islands and the rolling hills 
of Digby Neck are seen across St. Mary Bay. ‘The 
Neck is a continuation of North Mountain, which 
some upheaval of nature rent asunder, forming the 
famous Digby Gap, where ships pass through into 
Annapolis Basin. 


ce 
e 


. . . I will remember the bay, 

‘The white sails gliding through the gap from strange 
lands far away; 

The heavenly waters stretching by many a purple 
slope; 

The tide from out of Fundy, quiet of foot as hope.” 


DELIGHTFUL NOVA SCOTIA 23 


The little town of Digby climbs up the hillside, its 
white houses all but hidden by a wealth of green, the 
tide of Annapolis Basin lapping in at its feet. Digby 
cherries are famous, and the beauty of the orchards 
vies with the beauty of the bay. Even more famous 
are its smoked herring, known facetiously as ‘Digby 
chickens.”’ 

Bear River, nearby, is the cherry-land. Its 
orchards, clouds of white in blossom-time, or sprinkled 
with the luscious red of ripening fruit, are worth 
journeying far to see. An annual Cherry Carnival 
is held here, and the Micmacs come down from the 
hills to join in the water frolics. 

The Annapolis Basin is a long and strangely beauti- 
ful body of water where the Bay of Fundy, gaining 
entrance through Digby Gap, runs up to see what lies 
behind North Mountain. An Indian legend claims 
this once was a fresh-water lake where Great Beaver, 
the enemy of Glooscap, lived. In the forests that 
shut in the lake there was a Wolf who liked nothing 
better than sailing. Great Beaver made him a raft 
of young birch-trees, bound together with birchbark, 
and raised upon it a sail of spruce-branches; and on this 
Wolf rode gaily up and down the lake. But one day 
he ran through the forest and came to the top of 
North Mountain, and there he saw the Bay of Fundy 
spread out before him. No longer, then, was he satis- 
fied with his little lake. But how could he get his 
boat to this bigger sea? He asked Great Beaver to 
dig him a canal; but that Great Beaver would not do, 


24 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


for it would let in the salt water and spoil his own 
home. Wolf then ran off to Beaver’s enemy, Gloos- 
cap, and the demigod at once sent Lightning to split 
open North Mountain. So Lightning made the wide 
gap where the winds come howling through from the 
Bay of Fundy, and Wolf went sailing gaily away. 
Great Beaver could not live in salt-water, so he had 
to climb over the hills to Minas Basin which then, 
according to the legend, was a fresh-water lake. 

Annapolis Royal has been built near the old, old 
fort of St. Anne, formerly Port Royal, which stands 
as a relic of the brave little village that in 1605 
sheltered the first Europeans to “La Cadie,” and as a 
memorial to the daring of those who ventured across 
new seas to make their home in a new and unknown 
land. 

‘In the yeere 1604 Monsieur de Monts rigged 2 
shippes, and bare with those parts that trend West- 
ward from Cape Breton, giuing names to places at 
pleasure, or vpon occasion.” 

Champlain, De Monts and Poutrincourt sailed into 
Annapolis Basin in 1604; and the month being June, 
the land was at its loveliest; but it was nearly a year 
later, after a disastrous winter spent on Lisle de 
Sainte Croix, that Port Royal was founded. Then 
began a series of hardships, of fortunes and mis- 
fortunes; and for the following two centuries the fort 
played a thrilling but often tragic part in the struggles 
between the French and the English for supremacy 
in Acadia; and it played no small part in all the 


DELIGHTFUL NOVA SCOTIA 25 


American wars. The first blood to be spilled was 
when the English at the infant colony of Jamestown, 
Virginia, sailed up in 1613 and left nothing standing 
but an old mill. 

So rich is Fort Anne in history, so steeped in 
romance, so redolent of courage and high faith and 
heroism, that the Canadian Government has set aside 
the ruins and about twenty acres of ground for a 
National Park. 

The Annapolis Valley, in the late springtime, is all 
perfume and fairy loveliness—for the apple-trees then 
are in bloom. Mile after mile they stretch away, 
fluffy clouds of white and pink, calling to the bees with 
the sweetness of their fragrance, holding the passer- 
by with the sheer glory of their beauty. 

The orchards of Cornwallis Valley, over the ridge 
from Annapolis, are checkered with hayfields. The 
Acadians here carry on their farming much as did 
their ancestors who built the dykes which still sturdily 
hold back the tides. Scows, laden with hay, ply the 
waterways; and on land the picturesque ox plods along 
the highroad with his fragrant burden piled high. An 
Acadian poet thus gives a glimpse of his much-loved 


land: 


“From the soft dyke-road, crooked and wagon-worn, 
Comes the great load of rustling, scented hay, 
Slow-drawn, with heavy swing and creaky sway, 

Through the cool freshness of the windless morn.” 


Beyond Cornwallis Valley lies the romantic valley 
of the Gaspereau; and spread upon the ridge which 


26 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


separates these two is Wolfville, in the heart of 
Evangeline Land. Grand Pré, immortalized by Long- 
fellow’s poem, lies beside Wolfville. 


“In the Acadian Land, on the shores of the Basin of 
Minas, 

Distant, secluded, still, the little village of Grand 
Pré 

Lay in the fruitful valley. Vast meadows stretched 
to the eastward, 

Giving the village its name, and pasture to flocks with- 
out number. 

Dykes, that the hands of the farmers had raised with 
labor incessant, 

Shut out the turbulent tide... . 


9 


Directly across Minas Basin, and connected with 
Wolfville by boat, is Parrsboro, famed for its fishing 
and hunting. ‘This is a pleasant summer resort, with 
the advantages of water sports and wooded hills, for 
a beach lies in front, and behind the town rise the 
Cobequid Hills, with timbered slopes and winding 
valleys. 

The Five Islands, lying in front of Parrsboro, were 
the missiles which Glooscap threw at Great Beaver, 
the Micmacs say, when he wished to drive Beaver 
out of Minas Basin. In the long ago, they claim, 
this basin was a lake, but when Glooscap drove Great 
Beaver out he quickly sent Lightning to open up the 
broad gap which is now Minas Channel, to let in 


DELIGHTFUL NOVA SCOTIA 277 


sea-water from the Bay of Fundy and so prevent 
Beaver from returning. 

The spectacular Split Rock, which guards the 
entrance to Minas Basin, and which nature in some 
moment of supreme torment shattered and twisted in 
two, was caused, the Micmacs claim, when Glooscap 
became angry with Lightning and picked up this rock 
to throw at him. Lightning turned and split the rock 
in his hand with a bolt of fire which made him quickly 
drop it. 

As if further protection were needed for this lovely 
harbor, the lofty promontory of Blomidon stands 
with its head held high, its rocky base out-thrust to 
meet the onrushing tide. 


‘sé 


. . . . And away to the northward 

Blomidon rose, and the forests old; and aloft on the 
mountains 

Sea-fogs pitched their tents, and mists from the mighty 
Atlantic 

Looked on the happy valley, but ne’er from their 
station descended.” 


In this “happy valley” lies the important town of 
Windsor, picturesquely situated on a point which runs 
out between the Avon and the St. Croix Rivers. In 
the long-ago the Indian village on this site was known 
as Piziquid, ‘““The Meeting of the Waters,” for here 
the two rivers come together to form the wide Avon, 
which opens into Minas Basin like a broad bay. The 
Acadians early settled in the Avon Valley, building 


28 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


dykes to reclaim the marshes, planting apple-trees and 
their much-loved willows; but, except for the dykes, 
and an occasional gnarled old tree, there is now little 
evidence of their half-century of happy and busy life 
here. 

Minas Basin narrows to Cobequid Bay, and where 
this bay runs up to meet Salmon River, the city of 
Truro lies. Truro was founded in 1761 by Scotch- 
Irish settlers from New Hampshire, and is today one 
of the leading towns of Nova Scotia. Much of its 
Victoria Park, covering nearly a thousand acres, has 
been left in the same wild loveliness that the Indians 
knew when they wandered through the region centuries 
ago. With the river running down to the bay in 
front, hills rising to mountains behind, and lakes and 
streams scattered everywhere, there is a wealth of 
scenery that is as varied as it is beautiful. 

Across the hills is Northumberland Strait, where 
the town of Pictou holds first interest. Long before 
white men came, the Micmacs had a village here; for 
this was the very heart of Glooscap’s country, they 
believed, and so a desirable place in which to live. 
Also it was, unhappily, the home of the Indian witch, 
Gamona, who caught wild animals and skinned them 
alive, using the warm skins for her magic. A chip- 
munk managed to escape from her clutches, but her 
claws left stripes down his back, and they are there 
to this day. She caught an owl, but he, too, managed 
to escape, and flew straight off to find Glooscap. 
Glooscap had no magic that could harm the witch, 


DELIGHTFUL NOVA SCOTIA 29 


but he gave Owl big eyes, that he might ever watch 
her and give warning to his brother animals. And 
when Owl says, ‘Hoo, hoo,” that means the witch is 
flying about. 

East of Pictou, Cape George, running out toward 
Cape Breton Island, ends abruptly to leave room for 
George Bay, which extends in to the Gut of Canso. 
The shores of the bay, wooded and dotted with 
villages, rise in softly rounded hills where sheep are 
often at pasture and woods give way to pleasant 
meadows. Antigonish Harbour is but one of the 
bay’s many picturesque inlets. Inshore a bit from 
Antigonish is a haunted lake, if one may believe the 
tales told by the natives. It is a mere lakelet, scarcely 
more than a pond. Many years ago a farmer living 
there gave his soul to the Devil in exchange for the 
heart of a maiden he eagerly desired and which, alas, 
the Devil possessed. Both the farmer and the girl 
soon died; and ever afterward there has wandered 
about the lake, at twilight, a “Something” in the form 
of a black cat or a dog. No native dares go near 
enough, at the mystic hour, to investigate the weird 
creature his imagination pictures through the nightfall 
gloom. 

‘““Haunted”’ places, especially marshes, are very 
common on Cape Breton Island and this upper end 
of Nova Scotia peninsula, where ‘‘Bochen,”’ the mir- 
aculous water-horse, lives in the swampy regions. 
Many are the Acadian tales woven about him, and his 


30 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


changing mood. Sometimes he is a devil-horse; at 
other times he does only good. 

West of Pictou the coast varies with undulating 
meadows, wooded points, and occasional bits of 
rugged shore. The oyster, lobster and deep-sea fish- 
ing are so excellent here that many villages nestle 
beside the water; and some of these have grown into 
resorts where the vacationist comes, lured by the boat- 
ing and deep-sea fishing and by the rest and joy of 
summering in a quiet Acadian fishing village. 

The narrow isthmus of Chignecto, lying between 
Baie Verte, where Northumberland Strait washes in 
on the north, and Cumberland Basin, where the Bay 
of Fundy runs up through Chignecto Bay on the south, 
marks the boundary-line between Nova Scotia and 
New Brunswick. 

In Chignecto Bay the Fundy tides sweep in, often 
as high as forty or fifty feet; and as they wash out they 
leave broad beaches and ledges of brick-red mud, and 
marshes where wild-fowl have their feeding-ground. 
The water that rushes in is tinged with red, from its 
own clay-bank. Far off down the bay the rolling gray- 
green of Fundy—called by the French the Baie Fran- 
caise, and by the Micmacs the Tormented Sea—battles 
with the winds, which hurl the water in one direction 
while the tides rush with it in another. 

Of all Nova Scotia’s countless attractions, none is 
more interesting than the tormented tides of the Bay of 
Fundy. In this northern end of the bay, especially, 
where the water becomes more confined, it rolls not 


DELIGHTFUL NOVA SCOTIA 31 


merely in waves, but in spectacular walls that march 
onto the shore. The changing colors of this water, 
red and blue and green and silver, are remarkable 
at all times; in the early morning they are exquisite, 
when fogs still hang low and the crimson of the sky 
tinges the water through the misty gray veil. 


“Tides of Fundy, tides of Fundy, 
What is this you bring to me— 
News from nowhere, vague and haunting 
As the white fog from the sea.” 


iy % Bey Nae oh th havi 






J Se 
Wh i sh 
Se ee then 2 
: 
b 
444 Bad 
i ty aN: Oo 
ve 
i] is 
\' 4 
, 
‘ 
, 
Ti = 
] 
. 
1, 
} 4 t 
A ’ 
: ‘. 
iy 
pt 
7 a) i 
; y 
iP) 
at. 
aj, 
: 
al 
Oy 
| 
i) | . 
wy { ‘ 
a 
! 
J , 7 
i; ; le 
{ ‘ ¥ e} Nin & { aha 
: t ; i ‘ \ j f ‘hi 
f in let Ae A OS 
pf ; ¥ y : J 1} v7. Ly vif 
Ree yp ee.) racy K ¢ 
r : } ! iii 
Ye Pay te CRE Ae ere eT 


II. NEW BRUNSWICK, THE LURING 
LAND 


THE Story OF SAINTE Croix 

St. ANDREWS-BY-THE-SEA 

THE LEGEND OF CHAMCOOK LAKE 
TuHE IsLANDS OF PASSAMAQUODDY Bay 
PirATE GOLD ON GRAND MANAN 
THE StTorieD ST. JOHN 

THE LEGEND OF GRAND FALLS 
FREDERICTON, THE DELIGHTFUL CITY 
Lakes ALONG THE WAyY 

Tue Ciry or St. JOHN 

ScENIC MONCTON 

THE LEGEND OF HOPEWELL CAPE 
AcapIA LAND 

On NORTHUMBERLAND STRAIT 

THE ROMANCE OF MIRAMICHI Bay 
THE LuRE OF THE DEEP ForEsTS 
THE FAMOUS RESTIGOUCHE RIVER 
BEAUTIFUL CHALEUR Bay 

Tue LEGEND OF THE PHANTOM LIGHT 
Tue MYTHICAL GouGou 









ais Mass r (cay ity) Ny, ae it Vay % ae 
UR ia Aisi OY ORES vibe’ tines 
wih . N “Nh oy}, dae wi , A hia AvP 
yg i a Mx wiki ni ye 4 dak iM vay 
; Ne si wt) ney iy 
4 eva le Wen ee wpiuin ie ey 


he eng i hat 
ee 
a ‘ ‘ikea a i 


jo) Al Hh sayy ret 
; iy ay 
a a sik 





_ 


‘2 a ’ i M " A nt * ie 


II 
NEW BRUNSWICK, THE LURING LAND 


“Hung like a rich pomegranate o’er the sea 
The ripened moon; along the trancéd sand 
The feather-shadowed ferns drooped dreamfully; 
The solitude’s evading harmony 
Mingled remotely over sea and land; 
A light wind woke and whispered warily, 
A myriad ripples tinkled on the strand.” 
—Charles G. D. Roberts 
N 1604 an Indian village stood where now is the 
city of St. John, the wigwams somehow finding 
room among the many pines and hemlocks that 
crowded down to the water’s edge. A few Micmacs 
were fishing, on a day in late June, when suddenly one 
of them gave a cry of alarm. Rolling in on the waves 
of the Tormented Sea was what appeared to them to 
be a great monster of the deep. One glance at the 
terrifying creature, and the wigwams were deserted: 
the women with their papooses fled to the shelter of the 
forest; the men, as befitted Indian braves, grabbed up 
their bows and arrows and stood ready to do battle. 
But, to their wide-eyed amazement, they saw that 
this monster was only a ship; but such a ship as never 
before had they even dreamed could exist. It was 
Sieur de Monts and Champlain, seeking a site for 
their colony. 
The Indians were friendly enough, when the great 
35 


36 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


ship sailed in, and Champlain lingered long enough to 
name the river St. John; but he had dreams of a warm 
southern land for his colony, and so they soon weighed 
anchor and sailed on. 

When they reached Passamaquoddy Bay, dotted 
with its many lovely wooded islands, it seemed to them 
that, surely, there could be no more delightful place 
in all the world. It was too luring to leave. ‘There 
must have been long discussion as to which of the 
many islands to choose. De Monts settled it by 
selecting an island in the midst of a broad river that 
flowed into the bay. Being a devout Catholic, he 
planted a cross when he landed, and named the island 
Sainte Croix. The Etchemins, crowding down to the 
banks to stare in wonder at the strangers, called their 
river the Schoodic; it is now the St. Croix, and forms 
part of the boundary-line between Maine and New 
Brunswick. 

Filled with enthusiasm, the French colonists set to 
work clearing the ground, building log houses, and 
planting—wherever Champlain landed, almost his first 
act was to plant seeds. But the little settlement 
seemed doomed from the beginning. The winter 
cold was intense; shortage of food and an all-meat 
diet brought on scurvy, and nearly half the colonists 
died from this “mal de terre’; keen nostalgia assailed 
the others; and when the spring of 1605 arrived and 
with it came a boat from France with supplies, all 
were eager to sail for home. 

But De Monts and Champlain would not accept 


NEW BRUNSWICK, THE LURING LAND 37 


defeat. Poutrincourt had now joined them, and they 
removed the little colony across the Bay of Fundy to 
the sheltered inlet of Annapolis Basin which they had 
found so beautiful the preceding summer. Here they 
built Port Royal, using the material they brought from 
the demolished houses at Sainte Croix. The old 
settlement, where their disastrous first winter had 
been spent, now destroyed and deserted, was soon 
reclaimed by nature. Vines overran it, bushes sprang 
up, trees grew ever higher and higher, until all traces 
of this first brave little fort were effaced—only the 
island remained, 


“With tangled brushwood overgrown, 
And here and there a lofty pine, 
Around whose form strange creepers twine, 
And crags that mock the wild sea’s moan.” 


Even the name has been changed. Today it is 
Dochet Island. 

The St. Croix River flows down from a chain of 
lakes, the Chiputneticook, which stretch through a 
wide and timbered valley, and form an ideal place 
for camping, hunting, fishing, canoeing, or other 
vacation delights. At the mouth of the river the city 
of St. Andrews has been built, on a long and sloping 
peninsula which runs out into Passamaquoddy Bay. 

St. Andrews is New Brunswick’s most famous 
summer-resort. It is a tree-lovely city, noted for its 
beautiful scenery, with a deep wood running inland and 
the bay curving softly in front. 


38 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


“The far-off shores swim blue and indistinct, 
Like half-lost memories of some old dream. 
The listless waves that catch each sunny gleam 
Are idling up the waterways land-linked, 
And, yellowing along the harbor’s breast, 
The light is leaping shoreward from the west.” 


Back of St. Andrews rises Chamcook Mountain, 
keeping vigil over the lovely water of Chamcook Lake. 
An Etchemin legend claims that at one time neither 
the mountain nor the lake was here. In those far-off 
days there was an Etchemin chief whose only son, 
playing in the forest, was torn to pieces by wildcats; 
but as the child’s spirit started on its long journey the 
great Manitou appeared and changed it into this lake, 
that it might remain near the disconsolate chief. But 
the chief, in his sorrow, hid himself away in the tepee 
and would neither eat nor sleep; and the lake lay 
gloomy and sad. So the Manitou again appeared, 
and changed the father into Chamcook Mountain, that 
he might ever stand beside his little son. And now no 
longer is there mourning. Those who know the 
mountain know the joy of its loveliness; and know, too, 
that the lake lies ever smiling. Anglers seek Cham- 
cook Lake because of the gamy ouananiche, the land- 
locked salmon. 

Beyond this land of the Etchemins, if Champlain 
and other early writers may be believed, there was a 
strangely long-legged tribe, “the Armouchiquois, next 
unneighborly neighbors to the Etechemins.”’ Purchas 
says of them: ‘They are light-footed and lime- 





A ‘TREE-LOVELY ROAD 


St. Andrews is noted for its many scenic drives. 





Pa a a 


Courtesy, Canadian National Rys. 





THE, TWIN FALLS OF THE-POK LOK 
A wild glen near Fredericton, the city in the forest. 


NEW BRUNSWICK, THE LURING LAND 39 


fingered. Their legges greate and long, and dispro- 
portioned with likeness of proportion; when they sit on 
their heeles their knees are halfe a foote higher then 
their heades. ‘They are valiant and planted in the 
best Countrey.”’ 

Passamaquoddy Bay is all but shut in by its many 
islands. Some are mere rocky crags, rising in gray 
and red above the sea-blue water; others lie like dark 
emeralds set in gold, where the bright tree-patch is 
edged round with yellow sand; still others are broad 
and lovely islands, where there are meadows, and fish- 
ing villages, and craggy coves hemmed in with trees. 

Campobello Island lies at the very edge of the 
United States, and is a favorite summering-place for 
New York and Boston anglers. The shores are ex- 
tremely rugged and picturesque, and the island is well 
wooded. 

A short distance away is the island of Grand Manan, 
which has both beauty and romance. Rugged gray 
cliffs rise sheer from the water for three hundred or 
more feet, deep chasms cutting them, leaning spruce- 
trees almost touching overhead. Near Dark Harbour, 
in a secluded little cove, pirate gold is supposed to be 
buried. Many have sought here for treasure; and, 
could they only know it, have found it—not as 
doubloons and jingling pieces of eight, but in the health 
and joy of this thrilling outdoor sport of treasure- 
hunting, in the tonic from the ocean and from the 
incense-freighted hemlocks and pines. 

Grand Manan is a favorite fishing center, and with 


40 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


its balsam forests, its flower-scattered meadows, and 
its rugged, inviting coasts, it is a delightful summering- 
place. One of the many boat excursions that may be 
taken from the island crosses a sunlit stretch of Fundy 
to the lovely and history-steeped city of St. John, 
lying at the mouth of the river which the Indians 
called the Ouygoudy. This meant Highway, for by 
it they came down from the St. Lawrence. Cham- 
plain, however, being a good Catholic, spread broad- 
cast in this new land the names. of the saints; and as 
he sailed into the mouth of the Ouygoudy on St. 
John’s Day, he replaced what he considered the 
heathenish name of the Micmacs by the reverential one 
of his saint. 

The St. John rises in the woods of northern Maine, 
forms part of the boundary-line of that state, and 
then becomes wholly New Brunswick’s own. The 
Indians of its upper reaches called it the Woolastook, 
or Long River; for when they set out upon it in 
their birchbark canoes it seemed to them a river with- 
out end. ‘These northern Indians were the Meliseets. 
‘Their Dogges are like Foxes, which spende not, neuer 
giue ouer, and haue rackets tyed vnder their feete, 
the better to runne on the Snowe.” In the summer 
months the Meliseets paddled down the St. John to 
trade—and not always peaceably—with the Micmacs. 
Down this waterway, too, came the Mohawks, search- 
ing for scalps, making sudden raids upon Meliseet or 
Micmac villages. 

The entire upper reaches of the river, famous for 


NEW BRUNSWICK, THE LURING LAND 41 


its scenery, are wild and lovely; but the St. John’s 
most spectacular moment is at Grand Falls. Here the 
water, in a tremendous volume, makes a sudden leap 
of sixty feet into a rocky basin entirely hidden by the 
clouds of flying spray. Then off, down a deep, wind- 
ing gorge, the river cascades in frothy falls, boils over 
rapids, or stops to swirl in giddy whirlpools. There 
is a fascination in the roar of these falls, and in the 
rushing beauty of the water. And when huge logs 
are floated over and are tossed about like so many 
match-sticks, the fascination is akin to awe. 

New Brunswick is a land rich in legends, and many 
tales hover about Grand Falls. The most popular is 
of the Meliseet maiden who gave her life that her 
people might be saved. She was off in the forest 
gathering balsam-bark when she was surprised by a 
large party of Mohawks on their way to destroy the 
Meliseet village of Medoctec. The Indian girl was 
forced to guide the war-canoes, which were then in the 
Madawaska, a tributary stream. When she piloted 
them safely past the dangerous Little Falls and into 
the broad and quiet St. John, they had full confidence 
in her; and when she assured them there were no more 
portages, the canoes were lashed together as they went 
gliding stealthily downstream. But suddenly a roar- 
ing of water was heard. A bend in the river con- 
cealed the danger, and the maiden told the Mohawks 
it was a cataract in a nearby stream. ‘Too late to 
escape, they saw the precipice, and in spite of frantic 
efforts went over. Thus the Mohawk warriors and 


42 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


the Meliseet maiden were dashed to death on the 
rocks below, and the village of Medoctec was saved. 
The furious boiling and seething of the water at the 
foot of the falls is caused by the torment of these 
Mohawks, whose spirits still struggle for release; 
and in the roar of the cataract, if one but listen closely, 
their anguished groanings may be heard. 

On the stretch of the St. John that winds down 
from Grand Falls to Fredericton, there are many 
Indian villages, ever interesting and delightful; and the 
river itself is constantly varying. At places it is broad 
and shallow and dotted with islands; again it narrows 
to a mere channel, with rocky shores sweeping up on 
both sides, and trees crowding thickly about them; in 
some of its stretches there are groves of silver-white 
birch that run down in little points into the river, 
ferns crowding between the trees wherever they can 
find roothold. Again there are rolling meadows that 
sweep back, always to end in trees. Many streams 
winding into the St. John have rapids or falls of their 
own, lying hidden in the deep woods. 

Fredericton, the capital of the province, is a city 
built in the forest, a woodsy, flower-splashed city that 
is quaint and altogether charming. Even the St. John 
River takes on here a restful beauty, as it flows 
sedately by in a broad stream nearly three-quarters of 
a mile wide. Almost opposite the town is the mouth 
of the Nashwaak River where, in 1692, Villebon built 
a fort and removed his little French garrison from 
Jemseg, farther down the St. John. Scarcely was he 


NEW BRUNSWICK, THE LURING LAND 43 


settled when New Englanders sailed boldly up to 
attack him; but the Meliseet Indians gave excellent 
support and the fort could not be taken. Two years 
later, however, it was deserted, and was destroyed in 
1700. 

But this stretch of the St. John River was an ideal 
place for a city; it could not long remain deserted. By 
1740 the French village of Ste. Anne climbed back 
from the shores; and when the Acadians were driven 
from Nova Scotia many of them found refuge here. 
But the Acadians were ousted by the influx of Tories 
at the close of the American Revolution. They took 
the town for their own; the name was changed to 
Fredericton; and since 1786 it has been the capital 
of New Brunswick. 

Between Fredericton and St. John a railroad clings 
to the bank of the river, winding as it winds, afford- 
ing ever-interesting vistas of water and wooded islands; 
another railroad, running more directly, dips down 
through the interior, crossing and recrossing pic- 
turesque streams; but the most delightful ride, for 
one not in a hurry, is by the steamboat that plies down 
the St. John. Boats freighted with cargo—corn on 
the cob, bright-red tomatoes, sweet-scented hay—come 
alongside in midstream, tie up and unload while the 
steamer chugs on, undisturbed. ‘There are stops at 
wharves, where freight is piled high, where white- 
sailed boats may be at anchor, and little craft bob 
about in the waves the churning steamer sends shore- 
ward. 


vi BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


The Jemseg River, which is no more than a winding 
channel, brings to the St. John the water from Grand 
Lake. Long ago this great lake, with its many coves 
and bays and deep inlets, lay in the heart of an immense 
forest; today it is surrounded by orchards, by clover- 
fields, with their burden of nectar which gives such 
delectable flavor to New Brunswick honey, by well- 
kept farms, and coal-mines in operation. The Salmon 
River, following a tortuous course through a land of 
pastoral beauty, flows into Grand Lake; and just above 
its mouth is Chipman, a coal-mining center, a steamship 
terminus, and the junction of two important rail- 
roads. 

Washademoak Lake, which opens off the St. John 
River, is the outlet for the Washademoak River, a 
great fishing stream. Below this lake the St. John 
curves back into Belleisle Bay, and then begins its 
Long Reach of sixteen miles with scarcely a winding. 
On one side a range of hills, known locally as the 
Devil’s Back, rises in softly rolling contours. On the 
other side the banks are low; and in the midst of the 
river are many islands. At the end of the Reach the 
St. John makes its big bend and soon loses its identity 
as a river in a series of bays. 

The largest of these bays, near the mouth of the 
river, is the Kennebecasis, which is but a broadening 
of the exquisitely lovely Kennebecasis River. The bay 
is nearly four miles wide, and has many wooded islands 
to add to its charm and its colorful beauty. 


NEW BRUNSWICK, THE LURING LAND 45 


“Of all the gallant Frenchmen 
Whose names and deeds endure, 
In old Acadian annals, 
The greatest was La Tour.” 


Thus Whittier sings of Charles La Tour; and at 
the mouth of the St. John River, where the city now 
stands, was the little fort which Madame La Tour, 
in 1645, so heroically defended while her husband was 
absent seeking help in Boston. 

Port Royal was founded on the shores of Annapolis 
Basin in 1605; in 1610 Charles La Tour was there, 
a boy of fourteen, and during the following many 
years, full of stirring events, he came to love the land 
of Acadia as his own. Never once did he waver in 
his loyalty to France, even when his own father, 
captured on the highseas, taken a prisoner to London, 
and then lionized at the English Court, became a 
British subject and begged his son to accept the favors 
England was ready to offer should he give up the 
French fort near Cape Sable. Charles: La ‘Tour 
scorned bribes, and held the fort for France; and the 
King of France recognized this loyalty by appoint- 
ing him Lieutenant-governor of Acadia. 

More eventful years sped past. Cardinal Richelieu, 
alarmed at the hold the English were gaining over- 
seas, sent now a new colonizing expedition, and ap- 
pointed Razilly, a very excellent man, Governor of 
all Acadia. Razilly’s lieutenant and successor was 


Charles d’Aulnay, and between d’Aulnay and Charles 


46 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


La Tour a bitter war raged; for La Tour refused 
to give up his rights in the land he knew and loved, 
rights which he richly deserved. He was now 
entrenched in Fort La Tour, which he had built at the 
mouth of the St. John River; d’Aulnay was at Port 
Royal. La Tour would sally to Annapolis Basin 
to attack d’Aulnay’s fort; d’Aulnay would lose no 
time in crossing Fundy for an attack upon Fort La 
Tour. 

So the battle waged; and then d’Aulnay learned that 
La Tour was absent and the fort unprotected. An 
opportunity to be snatched, he decided, as he rushed 
to the attack. But he had reckoned without Madame 
La Tour. She rose heroically to the occasion. Under 
her guidance the few French and their Indian allies 
made such a determined resistance that d’Aulnay was 
retiring in discouragement when a cowardly German, 
who had sought refuge at the fort at the first firing 
of a gun, now turned traitor, for a price, and betrayed 
the fort, betrayed the staunch-hearted woman and her 
brave little garrison. Even then Madame La Tour 
refused to capitulate until d’Aulnay had guaranteed 
fair treatment to all his prisoners. This he readily 
agreed to; but, once inside, the cruel d’Aulnay not 
only broke his pledge and hanged every man except 
one whom he made executioner, but he forced Madame 
La Tour, with a rope around her own neck, to watch 
the murder of these men who so bravely had helped 
her hold the fort. The horrors of this treacherous 
massacre broke her heart; and she died three weeks 


NEW BRUNSWICK, THE LURING LAND 47 


later, a prisoner in the hands of the merciless 
d’Aulnay. 

Five years later d’Aulnay was drowned in 
Annapolis Basin; and a strange, almost incredible, 
sequel to the whole tragedy is that Charles La Tour, 
the husband of the courageous woman who is known 
as ‘“‘the heroine of Acadia,” and whom he truly loved, 
married the widow of d’Aulnay, the fiend who had 
caused Madame La Tour’s tortured death. 

The marriage brought La Tour back into his own 
in Acadia; but the very next year, 1654, Oliver Crom- 
well sent over an expedition which took the fort and 
held it for England—at least for a while. During the 
following century it was the target for constant naval 
bombardment from St. John Harbour. In 1758, 
while the French were in possession, it was captured 
by a combined force of English and New Englanders, 
and named Fort Frederic. At the outbreak of the 
American Revolution, a few American privateers 
slipped up, surprised it, captured and dismantled it. 
But many Tories from New England were now com- 
ing to St. John, and a fort here seemed desirable. In 
1777, therefore, six years before the city of St. John 
had its real beginning, Fort Howe was built at a com- 
manding position on Fort Howe Hill. The ruins of 
this old fort, and nineteen acres of surrounding ground, 
have been made a historic National Park. 

The city of St. John was at first called Parrtown, 
and its importance as a city began in 1783 when twenty 
ships, with about three thousand Tories from the 


48 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


United States, sailed into St. John Harbour. By the 
following year, six or seven thousand more Tories 
had arrived, besides a large number who founded 
towns elsewhere in New Brunswick. 

St. John is today the largest city in the province; 
and it is a beautiful city, with its tree-shaded streets and 
its many glimpses of the sea. Its most notable scenic 
feature is furnished by the outflowing St. John River 
where it meets and does battle with the incoming 
Fundy tide. Here are the Reversing Falls, said to 
be the only phenomenon of its kind in the world. At 
low-tide the mighty river-water, brought together in 
a narrow gorge, rushes furiously through and drops in 
a succession of rapids into the bay. At high-tide, the 
rush of the incoming bay is so great that not only does 
it cover these rapids but it sweeps against the river- 
water until it takes it rushing madly back upstream, 
to fall upon itself and race down again. 

St. John is Canada’s winter port, for it remains 
open for trans-Atlantic ships when Quebec and 
Montreal lie icebound down the frozen St. Lawrence. 

Much of the Bay of Fundy coast, between St. John 
Harbour and Chignecto Bay, is fertile marshland, 
prairie-like, where meadows of tall grass or fields of 
oats or clover drink in greedily the warm sunshine, or 
lie moist under the mists from the bay. 

The Bay of Fundy narrows to Chignecto Bay; 
Chignecto Bay narrows to Shepody Bay; and Shepody 
Bay narrows to the Petitcodiac River. The Indian 
word codiac, “bend,” was applied to the river only at 


NEW BRUNSWICK, THE LURING LAND 49 


its great curve where there was an Indian village. 
Higher in its course there is a much sharper bend, and 
this the French called, in a quaint mingling of lan- 
guages, the petit codiac; and the combined name came 
soon to be applied to the entire stream. 

Pennsylvania Dutch, hearing of the delights of this 
lovely country, left their settlements along the Del- 
aware and the Schuylkill and brought their all to The 
Bend, building log cabins among the Indian tepees. 
Many Acadians joined them. Tories from the United 
States found it a pleasant place after the Revolution; 
and the name of the town was changed to Moncton, 
in honor of the general who served second in command 
under Wolfe at the taking of Quebec and later was 
British Governor of New York. Today Moncton is 
the second city in size in the province, and is an im- 
portant manufacturing and railroad center. 

Its scenic attractions are many, and include the 
spectacular tidal wave, known as the “Bore,” a solid 
wall of water three to four feet high, which marches 
up the river from Fundy. At Hopewell Cape, a short 
distance away, are grotesque rocks of red sandstone 
which the lashing tides have sculptured into fantastic 
shapes. Seen in the moonlight, when day-glare is 
gone and contours are softened, they well might be, as 
the Indians claim, weird creatures stalking out to sea. 

The Micmacs say that a great monster once lived 
in the rocks along this shore, and he ate nothing but 
white porpoises. But so greedy was he that the por- 
poises soon began to disappear. Then he unchained 


50 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


his servants and sent them out to fish for him; but 
the servants were Micmac Indians the monster had 
captured, and, once free, they hastened off to their 
tribe. The monster lashed about in such fury that his 
tail shattered the rocky cliffs and left these weird 
pillars edging the shore. At once he turned them into 
giants, leaving their feet, however, solid rock, so they 
might never run away, as did the Indians, but per- 
mitting their bodies to assume human form whenever 
a white porpoise swam near. 

The Missiguash River, on the isthmus of Chignecto, 
is steeped in the history of the French and English 
struggles for Acadia; for on one side of the stream 
was the French Fort Beauséjour, and on the other side 
the English Fort Lawrence. In 1755, the year the 
Acadians were driven from the Basin of Minas, the 
French fort was captured, its name changed to 
Cumberland, and later it was abandoned and soon 
fell into ruins. | 

The coast of New Brunswick edging upon North- 
umberland Strait is almost wholly Acadian now. 
Delightful fishing villages dot the shore or curve about 
the many inlets; farming-land and stretches of cool 
deep woods run back from the sea. 

Cape Tormentine is an important port where the 
railroad shifts its cars from the track to a comfortable 
steamer, to be ferried across the strait to Borden, 
Prince Edward Island. Point du Chéne, also, is a 
little seaside resort where the railroad runs up to meet 
the boat, affording a delightful sail across to Summer- 


NEW BRUNSWICK, THE LURING LAND 51 


side, Prince Edward Island. Shediac, nearby, with 
its harbor sheltered by a tree-covered island, holds 
out many lures to the vacationist—its exquisite sea- 
scapes, its sandy bathing beaches, its boating joys, and, 
not the least, its famous oysters. 

Farther along the coast is Richibucto Bay, shut in 
by a chain of islands and receiving the water of the 
great trout and salmon stream, the Richibucto River. 

In 1534, seventy years before Champlain came, 
Jacques Cartier was in the Gulf of St. Lawrence, 
searching for the route to Cathay. Early in July he 
and his men landed on the New Brunswick coast, at 
Point Escuminac, for a brief run on shore before sail- 
ing into Miramichi Bay. 

Even before Cartier came, however, the Basque 
fishermen were here. Already they had picked up a 
few Indian words, one of the first they learned being 
michi, ‘boats.’ As they sailed into this broad harbor 
and saw hundreds of canoes rushing toward them, 
their occupants curious to see the big ship from another 
world, the Basque lookout cried excitedly to his com- 
panions: “Mira! Mira michi!’’ which meant, ‘Look! 
Look—boats!’’ The Basque sailors laughed at him for 
his mixture of Spanish and Indian, and began to call the 
bay, in jest, ““Miramichi.’”’ And through the centuries 
that name has clung to it, and has been given to a town 
on its shore, to the largest river which flows into the 
bay, and to three tributaries of that river. 

Some believe that “Miramichi” is an Indian word 
meaning ‘‘Hand’’—because five branches of the river 


yniversitY OF : 
WLLINO!S LIBRAR 


52 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


run together like fingers; others say it is Indian for 
‘Happy Retreat,”’ because of the lovely wooded glens 
along the river’s course. 

When Cartier sailed into Miramichi Bay so many 
canoes came paddling out that he was afraid their 
great numbers might swamp his boat, knowing that 
in their curiosity they would crowd upon him; so he 
fired his cannon to frighten them off. He hastily, 
then, showed his friendliness by presenting the chief 
with a bright red hat. 

The inner harbor is shut in by a chain of islands 
that stretch, like fairy stepping-stones, across the bay. 

Both Chatham, a charming little city, lying where 
bay and river meet, and Newcastle, a short distance up 
the broad’ Miramichi, are favorite outfitting-points 
for the vacationist fortunate enough to be able to 
spend fascinating days in the interior. All of 
northern New Brunswick is densely timbered. Spruce, 
fir, pine, cedar, hemlock, poplar, maple, birch—it 
seems that every lovely tree that ever was, grows 
somewhere here. And in these forests are thousands 
of moose, roaming about, swimming the cool streams, 
standing knee-deep in the pleasant lakes, feeding on 
the tender undergrowth, or resting motionless in the 
forest, their bodies the color of the background, their 
antlers like prongs of a tree. Herds of caribou, too, 
are here. Red deer are plentiful. And innumer- 
able fur-bearing animals live their busy lives some- 
where in these forests—bear, raccoons, otter, mink, 
beaver, marten, and many other creatures of the wild. 





s = *. : Pe: a % - 
Pd ; walt mid 


| x a ~ a 


Courtesy, Canadian National Rys. 


A LOG-DRIVE ON THE MIRAMICHI 


This famous river is a favorite with anglers and canoeists. 





ck Sa Ra ct 


Ceurtesy, Canadian National Rys. 


THE GIANT'S HEAD 
Weird, wave-sculptured rocks edge the shore at Hopewell Cape. 


NEW BRUNSWICK, THE LURING LAND 53 


Campers delight in the migratory birds that find New 
Brunswick’s deep and lovely woods too alluring to pass 
over; and in the wild-fowl that always are abundant 
here. 

A network of rivers and streams, and many lakes, 
winding through the incensed forests, form a labyrinth 
of water that the canoeist finds irresistible. The 
Tobique-Nipisiguit canoe trip, from Plaster Rock on 
the Tobique to Bathurst on Chaleur Bay, is one of 
the most delightful to be found anywhere. It winds, 
and often races, for about one hundred and fifty miles 
through the wildest forests of northern New Bruns- 
wick, and has a portage of only three miles. ‘This 
route may be varied by going down the Upsalquitch 
to Campbellton. Either way affords fine salmon 
fishing, wonderful camping sites, and beautiful forest 
scenery. 

The Restigouche, with crystal-clear water, is a 
favorite with the lazy canoeist; for a hundred miles 
or so there are no rapids, and one may float along 
at leisure and enjoy the forest creatures that come 
down to the river to drink or bathe. The Mira- 
michi, also, is a favorite with canoeists; and the routes 
of the St. John and its tributaries are innumerable. 

The Tobique and the Nipisiguit, rising in little lake- 
lets on the slopes of Bald Mountain and flowing in 
opposite directions, are noted for their trout and 
salmon. So also are the many branches of the Mira- 
michi; and almost every other river in New Bruns- 
wick. But the favorite salmon stream, with anglers, 


54 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


because of the abundance, the gaminess, and the im- 
mense size of the fish, is the Restigouche River, with 
its many tributaries, one of which has the delightful 
name of Quatawamkedgewickasis, which means Little 
Quatawamkedgewick. 

Part of the Restigouche’s course lies between Quebec 
and New Brunswick. Its lower reaches, nearly four 
miles broad, gradually widen into the very beautiful 
Chaleur Bay, which Cartier named the Baie des 
Chaleurs because the heat, on July 10, 1534, was more 
than pleasantly noticeable. “The Micmac name for the 
bay was the Sea of Fish. 

Dalhousie, running down to the water where the 
river ends and the bay begins, is a much-loved summer- 
resort and a charming little sea-town, lying at the foot 
of wooded hills. 

Few places are so rich in legend as this lovely 


Chaleur Bay. 


“Who has not heard of the phantom light 
That over the moaning waves, at night, 
Dances and drifts in endless play, 

Close to the shore, then far away, 

Fierce as the flame in sunset skies 

Cold as the winter light that lies 
On the Baie des Chaleurs.” 


This legend of the phantom light goes back to the 
days when pirates roamed the seas. A brave young 
man and his lady fair set sail to begin a wondrous 
life together in the new world. But their ship was 


NEW BRUNSWICK, THE LURING LAND 55 


sighted on the highseas by a pirate crew. With 
bellowing sails they sped into Chaleur Bay, the 
buccaneer ship in their wake. ‘They were overtaken, 
and sunk. Only the heavens had been witness to the 
tragedy; and the displeased heavens suddenly opened 
and dropped upon the pirate ship a ball of fire; flames 
sprang up the rigging, and tongues of flame leaped 
along the deck. Punishment had come swiftly; in 
another moment the ship and the cut-throat crew were 
at the bottom of the Baie des Chaleurs. 

Mariners claim that now, in the dead of night, the 
pirate ship comes up from the deep and flits about the 
bay, lighted by a glow of phantom-fire that leaps up 
the rigging, manned by a crew of wailing specter- 
pirates. 

Partly shutting in Chaleur Bay are two large, 
wooded islands—Shippegan and Mictou—the haunts 
of wild-fowl. These are isles of delight to the man 
with rod or gun, or to the mere seeker of rest and 
extraordinary beauty. But these islands, especially 
Mictou, were held in the utmost dread by the Indians; 
for here, they believed, dwelt the terrible sea-monster 
Gougou, half-woman, half-dragon, who was big enough 
to put in her pocket the largest ship that sailed, and 
who ate Indians as choice titbits. Even Champlain 
was led to believe in her. In 1603 he wrote: 


“There is still one strange thing, worthy of account, 
which many Savages have assured me was true; that is 
that neare the Baie des Chaleurs, toward the South, 
there is an island where a frightfull Monster makes his 


56 


of 


to 


BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


home, which the Savages call Gougou, and which they 
told me had the form of a Woman, but very Terrible, 
and of such a Size that they tell me the toppes of Mastes 
of our Vessel would not reache to his waiste, so great do 
they represent him; and they say that he has often eaten 
up and still continues to eat up many Savages; these he 
puts, when he can catch them, into a great pocket, and 
afterward he eats them; and those who had escaped the 
danger of this awful Beaste said that its pocket was so 
greate that it could have put our Vessel into it. ‘This 
Monster makes horrible noises in this Island, which the 
Savages call the Gougou; and when they speak of it, 
it is with unutterable fear, and severall have assured me 
that they have seene him. . . . If I were to record all 
they say of her, it would be considered as idle tales, but 
I hold that this is the dwelling-place of some Devil that 
torments them in the manner described.” 


A charming little summer-resort on this south shore 
the Baie des Chaleurs is Jacquet River, where a 
crystal stream winds through the woods and meadows 
end in the bay. ‘The view out over Chaleur, the 
water sparkling in the sunshine, the waves ever rest- 
less, is alluring; and the shore itself is attractive, with 
wide clean beaches running back to cliffs of fantastic 


rock or to meadows white with drifts of daisies. 


“Of all the floures in the mede 

Than love I most these floures white and rede, 
Soch that men callen daisies in our towne, 

To hem I have so greate affection.” 


NEW BRUNSWICK, THE LURING LAND 57 


New Brunswick has much to offer the homeseeker. 
To the vacationist it is a land of unending delights. 
Fishing, hunting, yachting, canoeing, camping, explor- 
ing its ever-new wilds; motoring on its many scenic 
highways, horseback-riding into the deep woods where 
logging-roads go, hiking off into the bypaths or blaz- 
ing new trails through the incense-sweet trees and the 
cool deep ferns—these are a few of its inexhaustible 
joys. 

Mountains and meadows, woods and sea, give a 
pleasing variety to the beauty of this land so 
rich in scenery, this land of the magnificent forests. 
In the spring, when the trees are all so freshly green, 
and white with dogwood blossoms, they are exquisite. 
In the summer the woods are even more enticing, with 
their tangled vines and brilliant wild-flowers. But by 
far the loveliest time is the early autumn, when maples 
splash the spruce and hemlock forests with flame and 
crimson and scarlet, poplars glow vivid-yellow, and 
oaks are a gay gold-bronze. ‘The visitor, leaving New 
Brunswick, has many pleasing memories, but none is 
more haunting, none more enduring, than the exquisite 
coloring of her autumn woods. 


“With magic color the forest glows, 
Fit for a pageant fair— 

Gold and scarlet, ruby and rose, 
Bright as a bugle’s blare.” 


NOV da aa pet th 
iM Nene ’ Hid . 


L 







} , 
} ve ae 


4 a en 





J A) 
a Lf t 


fr ret, " ‘ ‘ Auth if | ’ 
VOTO) ey OAR RAN pit a a sine i ik 


2 





bee THE HAPPY ISLE 


Tue LEGEND OF PRINCE Epwarp ISLAND 
WHEN CARTIER CAME 

DELIGHTFUL TIGNISH 

ALONG THE NorTH COAST 

RustTico’s FAMOUS BEACH 
SEA-MEADOWS AT EAsT POINT 

THE CHARM OF SOURIS 

In CARDIGAN BAY 

INLAND FROM MONTAGUE 

LovELY Murray HARBOUR 

THE LEGEND OF THE GULLS 

THE GREAT HILLSBOROUGH BAY 
CHARLOTTETOWN, THE FLOWER CITY 
“THE GARDEN OF THE GULF’ 
ICE-BOATS ON THE STRAIT 

Fox RANCHING 

CoLoRFUL BEDEQUE Bay 
SUMMERSIDE’s Many DELIGHTS 
AROUND WEsT POINT 

A Micmac LEGEND 


MINA ENG 
Cie i vine del Lia i 
any VRE, Pru MC) ‘. 
: a ht A hs ey 
5 hal awit 


, 
fe] 
‘ 


\ 


AY 


bead aoe 
‘ Pa A y 


y 


be WA hte BEV UAN 
TRAE a RENE 
RES 
pe) aes: ‘ » ; 


a’ 





III 
MoE HAPPY VLSivh 


“There’s a piping wind from a sunrise shore 
Blowing over a silver sea, 
There’s a joyous voice in the lapsing tide 
That calls enticingly.” 
—L. M. Montgomery 


RINCE EDWARD ISLAND was known to 
Pp the Indians as Abegweit, ‘Resting on the 
Waves.” And, surely, no more delightful 
description could be given of it. It lies in a long 
crescent of red and green and gold, the sea-blue around 
it and the sky-blue above it. When mists drift in from 
the gulf, half-veiling the shores, the island looks as 
if it were indeed “resting on the waves,”’’ ready to float 
gently off should a big wave come to disturb it. 
The sandstone cliffs and the clay-soil of the island 
are a rich red; and the Micmacs say they were colored 
by their demigod Glooscap for his pleasure, because 
red promotes cheer, and to this island he came when 
there were annoyances on the mainland. He especi- 
ally disliked rain, and here, on the Happy Isle, all was 
gay sunshine. But one day his enemy, Big Beaver, 
discovered where Glooscap had gone, and persuaded 
Gull and his brothers to fly over the island and shower 
him with rainwater, carried in birchbark buckets. The 


gulls found the buckets very heavy, so they rested on 
61 


62 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


clouds; but the clouds, too, found the buckets heavy 
and they dropped lower and lower and began to frown 
darkly. And to this very day, whenever there are low 
black clouds over the island, it is because Gull and his 
brothers are perched upon them, ready to empty their 
birchbark buckets. 

There may be occasional rains, but Abegweit is still 
a Happy Isle that ‘‘calls enticingly.”” When Cartier 
examined its shores in 1534 he described it as ‘“The 
Low and Beautiful Land”; but Champlain, seventy 
years later, felt that so lovely a place should have the 
name of one of his beloved saints. Accordingly, he 
called it L’ile Saint-Jean; and that name clung to it for 
about two centuries, until in 1799 the English changed 
it to Prince Edward, in honor of the Duke of Kent. 

This island, about one hundred and forty miles 
long and varying in width from two to thirty miles, is 
the smallest of all the provinces. It lies in the southern 
part of the Gulf of St. Lawrence, separated from New 
Brunswick and Nova Scotia by the Northumberland 
Strait. The shores are extremely irregular, with deep 
indentations and rivers almost joining across the island. 
This gives many fine harbors, many little coves run- 
ning up into red-rock shores, many crescent beaches 
of bright-red pebbles flecked with white, many quiet 
inlets where marsh-grass runs out into the sea, and 
where marsh-birds, dipping up from their bath, rest 
a moment and sway delightedly, shaking water-dia- 
monds from their wet wings. 

When Cartier came upon “The Low and Beautiful 


THE HAPPY ISLE 63 


Land,” on July 1, 1534, he was entranced. Such great 
forests, such a variety of trees, such an abundance of 
berries—nothing escaped him; and he wrote enthusi- 
astically of his discovery. The natives, however, were 
shy and kept in hiding. On the second day Cartier 
landed on what is now North Point. He called it 
Cap des Sauvages because of the many natives who 
peeped at him from behind trees but, not knowing 
whether this strange, bearded man, in his wholly- 
strange clothing, be mortal or demon, were afraid to 
approach. As Cartier was putting off from shore, 
one of the Indians, more courageous than his com- 
panions, ran out from his hiding-place and began mak- 
ing signs to him. The white man, eager to get into 
communication with the natives, hastened back to 
shore. But the Indian’s courage deserted him. Man 
or demon, he would take no chances. In a flash he 
was off in the forest. Cartier waited, and called; 
but the Indian—watching his every move, no doubt— 
remained in hiding, so the white man left him a knife 
and a piece of red cloth tied to a stick, and went back 
to his boat. What must have been the Indian’s joy 
and delight to own such unheard-of treasures as these! 

North Point is one of the tips of the great crescent 
of land that is Prince Edward Island. Black Reef, 
a treacherous shoal, lies in the gulf a few miles to the 
north of the point, the clang of its bell-buoy warning 
mariners of the many ships that have come to grief 
there. A few miles to the south is the friendly little 
village of Tignish, its inhabitants French and Scotch, 


64 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


descendants of the early Acadians and of Highlanders. 

Fisherfolk live at Tignish. Their little world is 
centered about the cod and mackerel and herring 
hauls, the lobster-pots, the changing sandbars offshore, 
their many boats. To the outsider Tignish is a delight. 
There are seas to be sailed in the daytime, fish to be 
lured into the nets; and at night, with the tang of brine 
in the air, and the stars coming out overhead, you 
sit on the beach, on an upturned boat, and listen to 
tales of the sea. 

There is a wholesome charm about this little village 
clinging to the edge of the sea, and a colorful beauty in 
its fishing-fleets. At dawn the boats set out gaily, the 
chauntey song or the cheery whistle of the fisherfolk 
coming back, muffled, through the morning fog; at 
sunset, creamy sails against darkening sky, they come 
gliding triumphantly in, deep-laden with the day’s 
catch. 


“When the dark comes down, oh, the wind is on 
the sea, 

With lisping laugh and whimper to the red reef’s 
threnody, 

The boats are sailing homeward now across the harbor 
bar 

With many a jest and many a shout from fishing 
grounds afar. 

So furl your sails and take your rest, ye fisherfolk 
so brown, 

For task and quest are ended when the dark comes 
down.” 


THE HAPPY ISLE 65 


Sandbars stretch along much of the north coast, 
shutting in the bays like deep lagoons. Here and there 
are openings in the sand, where vessels may pass 
through. Cascumpeque, the first of the large bays, is 
Indian for “Floating through Sand.” 

On this shore about a century and a quarter ago a 
thrilling event was a “sea-cow’” drive. Walrus came 
up on the banks in herds of three or four hundred. 
They were left unmolested until the wind blew off-land, 
and then the settlers, armed with long, sharp-pointed 
sticks, got between the ‘‘sea-cows”’ and the water and 
prodded the poor creatures until they went waddling 
off, away from the sea and into the woods. There, 
out of their element, they lost all sense of direction, 
and all their herd instinct, and, once scattered, few 
of them escaped. 

Malpeque Bay, near Cascumpeque, was named by 
Cartier ‘River of Boats’’ because of the great number 
of canoes that he» saw there. The Indians were 
hastening up-river, away from him, to the short port- 
age across the island to Bedeque Bay. A heavy wind 
carried Cartier back to his ship, but not before his 
observant eyes had seen, for the first time, smoke 
issuing from the mouths of the Indians. Later, when 
he had become more familiar with tobacco, he gave a 
quaint description of it: 


“There groweth also a certaine kinde of Herbe where- 
of in Summer they doe make greate provision for all the 
yeere, making greate account of it, and onlie Men use it; 
and firste they cause it to be dry’d in the Sunne, then 


66 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


weare it about their Neckes wrap’d in a little Beastes 
skinne made like a bagge, together with a hollow peece 
of stone or woode like a Pipe. "Then when they please 
they make Powder of it and put it in one of the endes 
of the say’d Cornette or Pipe, and laying a coale of Fire 
upon it at the other ende, they doe sucke so long that 
they fill their bodys full of Smoake, till that it cometh 
out of their Mouthe and Nostrills even as out of the 
tunnell of a Chimney.” 


All along the north coast there are Acadian fishing 
villages that curve about the little coves, the white 
cottages tucked away in the green of trees and splashed 
with bright-colored flowers. ‘These are ideal places 
for the vacationist who loves the sea, who likes to go 
out with the fishermen in the early morning, while the 
day-dawn fog is still thick and the boat sails on and on 
through a world of pearl-white mist, nothing to be seen 
but the fog, nothing to be heard but the flapping of 
canvas and the surge of the sea. 

The rivers of the north coast are popular with 
anglers for their fine trout; and oysters and lobsters 
are to be had where the rivers meet the gulf. Many 
splendid beaches, fine sand running out into shallow 
water, are to be found along the entire stretch of gulf 
coast. One of the most popular is at Rustico, where 
the fishing, boating, and bathing are excellent. 

At the extreme eastern tip of the crescent, East 
Point reaches a rocky foot out into the water. Far 
off, across a stretch of rolling sea, often flecked with 
whitecaps, the coast of Cape Breton Island looms, 


salen Unanananinnansten 


: 





Courtesy, 


East 





“P. E. I. Tourist 


Assn. 





WHERE THE NORTH SHORE ENDS 


Point reaches 


out into the restless 
St. Lawrence. 


waves of the Gulf of 






“UIE FO 


sjood jsurede pazJanoyjIsS aie saat} YABP “[OOD 
LASNOS ANVISI NV 


“Sty 





JDUO1}D AT 





uDIrvUuDy) ‘KSIJANOD 








THE HAPPY ISLE 67 


purple-blue in the distance. On each side of East 
Point the shore is formed of striated rock, wave- 
eaten into shelves and ledges and fascinating caves 
where the outgoing sea leaves kelp and tiny water- 
creatures floating about in pools until the incoming 
tide washes back to claim them. Rocky beaches curve 
into crescent banks; and, above, tall grass escapes from 
the meadows and runs down to the ledges where the 
waves of the gulf come rolling in. When the seas 
blow high, spray drenches the grass and edges the 
blades with jewels. These sea-fringe meadows are 
exquisite then; but there is a joy in them even when 
they lie only a subdued foreground to the vast water- 
loveliness beyond. 

The short eastern coast has many fine harbors. Col- 
ville Bay was named Souris by the French, not because 
of the ragged, mouse-eaten appearance of its shores but 
because the forest which then crowded about the bay 
was overrun with mice. ‘The name still clings to the 
town. Souris, in spite of its growing importance as 
a fishing center and a port of call for steamers plying 
between Pictou, Nova Scotia, and the lonely Magdalen 
Islands, is a quiet and wholly charming little village, 
busy with its shipping, busy with its fishing, yet never 
too busy to greet the stranger and to see that he misses 
none of the joys of woods or water. There is a fine 
sandy beach here that proves a constant lure. 

Cardigan Bay and Murray Harbour vie with each 
other in the loveliness of their seascapes. The busy 
ports of Georgetown and Montague give Cardigan 


68 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


Bay a picturesqueness, with boats ever coming and go- 
ing, that is wholly different from the quieter beauty 
of Murray Harbour. 

Some of the loveliest scenery on the island lies inland 
from Montague—deep woods with creeks winding 
through them, trees arching over the water; broad 
and quiet rivers that glide along leisurely or linger in 
pleasant, tree-shaded pools; rolling meadows where 
sheep are grazing or cows stand knee-deep in shallow 
streams. Flowers add colorful beauty to the meadows, 
crowd along the highways, and scatter their blossoms 
through the deep woods. 

Cardigan Bay and the inshore rivers and woods are 
charming; but there are few places on the island more 
lovely than Murray Harbour. The water, white- 
capped and restless, comes rolling in, hesitates, then 
surges back. Boats, their white sails lilting to the 
swing of the sea, cut against the blue of water and 
sky. Sea-gulls wheel about the boats, or swoop down 
to ride the waves, flecks of white like the frothy white- 
caps. 

A Micmac legend claims that the whitecaps are 
sea-gulls too, unable to fly above the water because the 
Spirit of the Sea holds onto them by strings tied to 
their legs. 

Long ago Glooscap arranged for a powwow between 
Spirit of the Sea and Spirit of the Air; and, following 
the custom, each took the other a handsome present. 
Spirit of the Sea could think of nothing more lovely 
than the bright-gold sand that carpeted his floor; so 


THE HAPPY ISLE 69 


proudly he took up with him as much of this as he 
could carry; but the ungrateful Spirit of the Air, hav- 
ing no use for such a gift, flung it back into the sea— 
and there it remains to this day, the islands in Murray 
Harbour. Now Spirit of the Air had selected, as 
his choicest treasure, the whitest and fluffest of his 
sea-gulls. This gift greatly pleased Spirit of the Sea. 
He let the gulls fly about at the bottom of the gulf, 
securely fastened to his lodgepole by a long string 
tied to the leg of each one. 

One day Spirit of the Sea saw Stormcloud weep- 
ing, while Wind lashed the waves high. Wind was 
angry, he told Sea, because the gulls all flew away 
from his friend Stormcloud. They played with Sun- 
cloud, but the moment Stormcloud appeared they 
flew off to land. So Sea made a bargain. For every 
drop of water Wind should blow down to him from 
the skies there should be a gull for Wind and Storm- 
cloud to play with. So now the sea-gulls come up, 
but Spirit of the Sea holds on tightly to the strings 
on their legs and jerks them back when he has counted 
all the waterdrops. 

It was at Murray Harbour that the early settlers, 
never having heard of fireflies, believed them to be 
evil spirits dancing in the air, and a pail of milk was 
nightly set out to appease them. In the morning the 
milk would be gone, and the good folk never once sus- 
pected the roaming pigs. 

The metropolis of the island is its capital, 
Charlottetown, lying at the confluence of two wide 


70 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


rivers—the East or Hillsborough and the North or 
York, while the West or Elliott River skirts the town. 
Where the waters of these three rivers mingle, 
Charlottetown Harbour reaches out to Hillsborough 
Bay, broad and colorful, with blood-red beaches 
stretching in burnt crimson between the silver-blue of 
the sea and the many shades of green and yellow on 
shore. The French who sailed into the harbor in 
1733 found it so beautiful that they named their 
little settlemert Port la Joie. 

There is a quiet loveliness about Charlottetown, 
with its wide, tree-bordered streets, its many lawns, 
and its bright flower-beds. And not the least of its 
charms is the undercurrent of happiness, the sense 
of deep and great content, that pervades the town. 

In 1775 two American cruisers, sent to the St. 
Lawrence to intercept troop or munition ships from 
England, grew tired of waiting for their prey and 
sailed into Charlottetown Harbour, took the city, and 
carried off with them acting-Governor Callbeck and 
two of his officers. But instead of being commended 
for this exploit, they were severely reprimanded by 
Washington, who was then at Cambridge, and the 
Governor and his men were set at liberty with many 
apologies from the great General. Not to be out- 
done in courtesy, Governor Callbeck then wrote to 
Washington, in his exquisite English: 

‘T should ill deserve the generous treatment which 
your Excellency has been pleased to show me had I 
not gratitude to acknowledge so great a favor. I 


THE HAPPY ISLE | 71 


cannot ascribe any part of it to my own merit, but 
must impute the whole to the philanthropy and humane 
disposition that so truly characterizes General Wash- 
ington. Be so kind, therefore, as to accept the only 
return in my power, that of my most grateful thanks.” 
Late that same year, the colonies then being deep 
in war, a few daring Americans whose whaleboats were 
on the Nova Scotia coast decided to swoop across and 
capture Charlottetown. But they had no suitable 
vessel—only the two small whalers. In these they 
boldly sailed into Pictou harbor and captured a fine 
armed merchantman loading for Scotland. It then 
occurred to them that possibly Charlottetown was 
now protected, as in truth it was, so they stood to in 
Baie Verte to wait for reinforcements they expected 
among Nova Scotia sympathizers. And at this time 
along came the sloop-o’-war Hunter from England 
and, learning at Pictou of the Americans and the cap- 
tured ship, hastened with all sails spread to Baie Verte. 
But the Massachusetts men were not napping. When 
they saw her coming and knew they were far too few to 
protect their prize, they slipped out the back door, 
as it were, and escaped overland; and the Hunter then 
towed the deserted ship into Charlottetown Harbour, 
where its captain decided it would best remain while 
the seas were infested with American marauders. 
Radiating from Charlottetown are many roads, 
both by land and by water, that entice the visitor 
to see where they go. Some lead to trout-streams 
that wind, through a fringe of trees, down to the sea. 


2 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


Others go to creeks that have been transformed into 
millponds, wholly picturesque, but tragic when they 
mean the death of the lovely trees that the island ill 
can afford to lose. Some run off through the meadows 
or rolling uplands where cattle and sheep are grazing; 
or where grainfields, rippling green or gay yellow, or 
dotted with squat little ‘‘stooks” waiting to be carried 
away, lie side by side with fields of potatoes or 
turnips. Apple orchards are scattered about, sprin- 
kled: with red or gold in the fall, masses of loveliness 
in the late spring, with 


“Colors of dream afloat on cloud and tree, 
So far, so clear, 
A spell, a mystery!” 


A favorite name for Prince Edward Island long has 
been ‘“The Garden of the Gulf.’ For centuries the 
land has been tilled; for the past century it has been 
encouraged with kelp and mussel-mud; and it never 
fails to produce a bountiful harvest. Oats, potatoes 
and turnips are raised widely; hay is gathered on the 
uplands; berries of all kinds thrive. In the woods 
gay birch and beech are friendly neighbors of somber 
spruce and cedar; while the island shows its Canadian 
spirit by flaunting everywhere bright-leaved maple- 
trees. 

A railroad spreads over the island, reaching out to 
all the important points, and connecting with the 
mainland by car-ferry, which carries the train across 


THE HAPPY ISLE 73 


Northumberland Strait from Borden to Cape Tormen- 
tine, New Brunswick, and so on out into the world. 

Formerly, for about two months in the year, the 
frozen and uncertain strait had to be crossed in ice- 
boats, equipped with sails for possible stretches of 
open water, with oars for use among icefloes, and with 
runners for crossing the miles of solid ice, the modus 
operandi then being the crew pulling the boat by four 
leather straps attached to each side. Often a blind- 
ing snowstorm would swirl them far off their course; 
the many hummocks in the icy trail would make difh- 
cult going; but the trip across the sea of ice in one of 
these unique and jolting boats was a thrilling 
experience. 

From the train-port at Borden the railroad runs 
up to Emerald Junction; and there the visitor has 
before him a fascinating choice of directions. He 
often is tempted to linger in the neighborhood of 
Emerald, wandering through country lanes where 
Acadians are busy in their grainfields, or visiting one 
of the many fox-farms. ‘This is an industry for 
which Prince Edward Island is noted, and one which 
never fails to interest the outsider. The friendly 
little creatures, silver-gray or black, shut into their 
wire “runs,’’ seem too lovely to kill; yet fox-farming, 
as it is scientifically managed on the island, brings much 
wealth into the province. 

While Borden is the most direct way to this vacation 
isle, there is steamship connection between Pictou and 
Charlottetown; and another steamship route between 


74 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


Point du Chéne and Summerside, affording a delight- 
ful sail. Before the shores of New Brunswick are 
lost in the distance, the low red cliffs of Bedeque Bay 
are showing in soft purple which slowly changes to 
red as the coast is approached. Summerside is the 
island’s second largest town, and its name alone gives it 
a glamour which is lacking in the prosaic names of 
Charlottetown and Georgetown. It spreads its pleas- 
ant streets about an inlet of Bedeque Bay, and is much 
in favor as a summering-place. There is excellent 
fishing and boating, and a gypsy-wild fascination in 
climbing about the low red cliffs. Bedeque Bay is 
famous for the magnificence of its cloud effects, 
especially at sunset. 


“The west o’erbrims with warmest dyes; 
Its chalice overflows 

With pools of purple coloring the skies 
Aflood with gold and rose.” 


Added to the glory of color in the clouds and its 
iridescent reflection in the water below, there are the 
colorful cliffs. 

Egmont Bay, called by the French La Grande Anse, 
is even more superb in its massed clouds, and its blue- 
green water, silvered by the sun of midday and purple 
at twilight. 

Beyond West Point, at the end of Egmont Bay, the 
shore runs up to North Point in an almost unbroken 
line. Cartier cruised here, looking in vain for a 


THE HAPPY ISLE 75 


harbor, at last believing this to be only the shore of 
a bay and “The Low and Beautiful Land” part of the 
mainland. 

About half-way up the west coast there is a small 
inlet which in the old days was almost encircled by 
dense pine forests with thick and tangled underbrush. 
Here, the Micmacs believed, Thunder came down from 
the clouds, in the form of a black bear, to fish in the 
water as a pastime. One day an Indian maiden, 
gathering berries, pushed her way through the under- 
brush and came upon the inlet, not seeing the black bear 
who lay under a pine-tree nearby. Thunder was en- 
tranced with her beauty. Changing himself into an 
Indian brave, he plucked a mayflower and threw it at 
her—the Micmac way of asking her to be his wife; and 
once he had her in his arms he floated up to his home in 
the clouds. There she lived very happily, until she 
fell in love with Morning-star; and Thunder, in his 
jealousy, sent her hurtling down to earth. She fell 
into the shallow inlet where he had found her; and 
her blood, spattering over the rocks, stained them red. 
And so they remain to this day. 

Micmacs still live on the island. They have adopted 
white man’s clothing, white man’s ways, and they have 
all but forgotten the traditions of their ancestors; but 
in their hearts they are Micmacs and, away from 
veneer, alone in the deep woods or out on the wide 
seas, they are wholly Indian. They make excellent 
and interesting guides when one goes for deep-sea fish- 
ing, or after the lobsters or oysters for which the island 


76 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


is noted, or to find the best places in the many trout- 
streams. [heir ancestors never cast their fishnets 
without murmuring a prayer to the fish, entreating 
them to be brave enough to run into the net, promising 
to burn their bones and throw the ashes back into the 
stream so the spirit-fish could then come to life again. 
When the present-day Micmac hooks a fine trout, he 
must feel, even subconsciously, some of this reverence 
which extended through so many generations of the 
long ago. 

One of the insistent charms of Prince Edward Island 
is the friendliness of the people who live there. There 
is something pleasing, too, in their stanch Canadianism, 
and in the intense loyalty to their little province. They 
call it, lovingly, ‘“The Island,” as if in all the world 
there could be none other. ‘They even claim that in 
prehistoric days the Indians, too, called it Minegoo, 
“The Island.” 

What Prince Edward Island may lack in great 
forests, in high mountains and spectacular waterfalls, 
it more than has in colorful beauty, in quaintness and 
wholesomeness, in a beguiling serenity. Its initials 
well might stand for Peaceful, Enchanting Island. 


“O, you beautiful land, 
Deep-bosomed with beeches and bright 
With the flowery largesse of May 
Sweet from the palm of her hand 
Outflung, till the hedges grow white 
As the green-arched billows with spray. 
O, you beautiful land!” 


IV. THE CHARM OF QUEBEC 


ROMANTIC QUEBEC 

THE ISLANDS IN THE GULF 

THE “GREAT RIVER OF CANADA” 
Gaspf£’s CHARM 

THE LEGEND OF Percé Rock 
MATAPEDIA AND “BEAUTIFUL BIC” 
Historic ‘TADOUSSAC 

A CREATION LEGEND 

THE SAGUENAY AND LAKE ST. JOHN 
Murray BAy, THE POPULAR PLAYGROUND 
THE CHARM OF THE HABITANTS 
QUAINT AND Historic QUEBEC 

THE SHRINE OF STE. ANNE DE BEAUPRE 
MONTMORENCY FALLS 

LAKE EpwWarD AND LAURENTIDES PARK 
THE LAKES OF THE SOUTH 

THE LEGEND OF SHAWINIGAN FALLS 
THE “RIVER OF THE IROQUOIS” 
BEAUTIFUL MONTREAL 

CANOE-ROUTES ALONG THE OTTAWA 
THE GREAT NorTH 

THE LEGEND OF THE STARS 





/ ‘ he ie N if \ ; batty 
AR ; 1 } nt a Qi \ ai wie 
i init ' t 
RY Me ave (A) 
\ 1 y re Ay Gh 
5, f Mi fi 
j i= 5 | aA y 
f es ALD int Ul 
’ / 4 : é \ ANS 
, hs \ 
‘" ‘ 4 Fi ay 
Y nS a Dek bes 4 aa 
ie ‘ ay a “\) be fh) A f by 
Dit brag 
. raat oe a | 
. f ' ’ , { 
‘ ie La i ‘ *' uy if y 
f aye 
¥ | Pern ye eae 
ae ar" en. rie ay) 
« ik hs 1 
: my! 
Ba NA 0 Nai are ites 
a sy wt ; My 
, eh i . \\ i iy thy) 
" ! 4 “Sai ld 
! i 5 ‘ mink ny 
! va s 
4 Ay P| - 
i ; ry } 4 a Ws 7 ie 
: ’ 1 gyi 1 ‘i ‘ ry 
, uy i wae ; 
he aa | . (ees vay: 
‘ [ 
waren 
t } RON m 
i , ‘on i ys 
vii *j i.) 
i fi Va “fh 
» Rey en 
Teh 
fy ee 
, ai < y 
7\ a 
4 J 4 eth 
a a “ed 
‘\e ah Ay fat, 
; 
' ‘ ‘ 
nS 
an a! Ot 
i 
; 4 
4 te Tice at 
. 
+f 
f 
, 
. \ 
‘ 
: 
Y 
t ‘ 
7 
it 
' ] 
4 . 
at 
L] 
A 7 ; 
‘ NLPae 
} weg e y PME a 
1a f ‘| Ane, a ie 
apy ra; fans y ‘ 
eke he RLS ‘ ve 
Le | j vi ¥ 4 
N 


fi 
tiie 


IV 
THE CHARM OF QUEBEC 


“The sky had a gray, gray face, 
The touch of the mist was chill, 
The earth was an eerie place, 
For the wind moaned over the hill; 
But the brown earth laughed, and the sky turned blue 
When the little white sun came peeping through.” 
—Anne Huestis 
HERE is romance in the very word Quebec. 
Four centuries of history—tragic, heroic, 
daring history—have spread their glamour, 
and the province is steeped in memories of the past— 
memories redolent of great deeds, of brave men, of 
courageous and loyal women. But Quebec lives not 
alone in the past; there is a busy and happy and beauti- 
ful present. As Purchas quaintly expressed it, it is 
‘‘a goodlie Countrey furnish’d with Oaks, wilde Vines, 
Peares, Goose-berries, Diamonds, and other Profitable 
Pleasures.” 

The province is so vast that it comprises almost a 
world in itself. The north, an immense wilderness 
of lakes and rivers and dense timber, stretches back 
from the Laurentian Mountains which border the 
northern shore of the St. Lawrence. ‘The south is a 
narrow strip that ends in Gaspé Peninsula, and 
through this strip the Notre Dame and the Shikshok 

79 


80 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


Mountains extend, a continuation of the Appalachians. 
Between these two lies the wedge-shaped basin of the 
St. Lawrence. In the Gulf of St. Lawrence are the 
islands of Anticosti and the Magdalen group, with 
the two Bird Rocks standing alone, white with sea- 
birds. 

When Cartier came this way in 1534 he lingered in 
amazement at these Bird Rocks. He believed them 
to be snow-mountains until he approached and dis- 
covered myriads of white birds—gannets, auks, puffins, 
and innumerable others. Purchas took Cartier’s 
description of them, and expanded it: 


‘The soile of the Ilands is sandie red, but by reason 
of manie Birds on them they looke white. ‘The Birds 
sitt as thicke as stones lie in a paued streete, or to vse 
Iaques Cartier’s comparison, as thicke as any Fielde or 
Medow is of grasse. . . . Some are as bigge as Iays, 
blacke and white, with beakes like vnto Crowes: their 
wings are not bigger than halfe ones hande, and there- 
fore they cannot flye high: they are very fatte....A 
bigger, and white, which bite like Dogges they term’d 
Margaulx. Beares swimme thither to feaste with these 
Birds. One they saw was as greate as a Cow, saith 
Cartier, and as white as a Swan, which they did kill and 


eate, and the flesh was as goode as of a two-yeere-old 
Calfe.” 


The Rocks are still white with birds, and birds 
wheel about them in undulating masses of white. The 
great auk is no more; but there are countless gannets 


THE CHARM OF QUEBEC 81 


and other sea-fowl whose incessant cries furnish wild 
music for the lonely keeper of the light. 

A few leagues southwest of Bird Rocks are the 
Magdalen Islands, tenanted by Acadian fishermen. 
Long before Cartier arrived and thoroughly examined 
this group, “‘Britaines, Baskes, and Biskaines” were 
coming here for the whale fishing and for walrus, “‘the 
huge and mightie sea-oxen with greate teeth.” The 
islands are a fishing center today; and because of their 
isolated position they are a quaint and interesting place 
to spend a few days or a few weeks. ‘They are 
reached by steamer from Pictou. One long island, 
made up of drifted sand-dunes, rolling sandbars and 
red hills and shutting in long and lovely lagoons, is 
scattered about with other islands. Amherst, at the 
southern end, is the most important of the group. 
Entry Island flanks it on the east, and Deadman’s 
Island on the west; and far off to the north lies Brion 
Island, wholly isolated. 

“The Sauvages worshippe the Deuill,” wrote 
Cartier, of Anticosti Island, ‘‘and doe dwel in houses 
made of Firre-trees bound together in the toppe and 
sett rounde like vnto a Doue-house.”’ Anticosti, larger 
than Prince Edward Island, lies at the estuary of the 
St. Lawrence River like a great fish swimming out to 
sea. Its north coast rises in rugged mountains, and 
most of the island is timbered and well stocked with 
game. It is privately owned. 

The Indians had many names for the St. Lawrence, 
and a legend for almost every cove and headland, 


82 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


every rocky stream tumbling down from the hills. 
The early explorers called it the ‘Great River of 
Canada.” And today it usually is known as the 
“Beautiful St. Lawrence.’’ Few rivers have such 
varied loveliness, such constantly changing scenery. 
The actual source of the river is in Minnesota, four 
of the Great Lakes serving for its bed; but the St. 
Lawrence as it is known and loved begins where the 
water leaves Lake Ontario and sweeps northeast to 
the sea. At its mouth it is more than a hundred miles 
wide; near Quebec it is less than a mile. Purchas 
expresses its vastness in one of his quaint similes: 
“The Greate Riuer of Canada is like vnto an insati- 
able Merchante so that other streames are in manner 
but meere Pedlers.” 

Between the St. Lawrence and the Baie des Chaleurs 
the surpassingly lovely Gaspé Peninsula reaches out 
into the gulf. Wherever one may go, in this delectable 
land of the Gaspeche, there is beauty. Mountains rise 
from two to three thousand feet, not ruggedly but in 
soft, sweeping lines. They fold back to form enchant- 
ing river-valleys, or cup around exquisite lakes. The 
Chaleur Bay curls into the shore in little half-moon 
coves, with broad beaches running up to rough-rock 
banks. Where bay ends and gulf begins, the banks 
rise to cliffs, rich red, wave-worn fantastically, and 
splashed with yellow and green where alge cling. 
When a storm rages at sea and breakers come driving 
in, the Gaspé coast is superb. 

Here and there the cliffs fall away to reveal entranc- 








* 






ee } 


Courtesy, Canadian National Rys. 


CAP BON AMI, GASPE PENINSULA 
Much of the beauty of this peninsula lies in the soft, sweeping lines. 





f 


Courtesy, Canadian Nattenal Rys. 


BIRD ROCK, BONAVENTURE ISLAND 
The rich red cliffs, green above, are draped in white by the 
many sea-birds. 


THE CHARM OF QUEBEC 83 


ing little half-bowls, the green hills curving behind 
them, the blue gulf stretching in front; and here the 
bright-white cottages of the fisherfolk are scattered. 
Each of these villages has its many tales of the sea. 
Near Cap d’Espoir Queen Anne’s great fleet, destined 
to capture Quebec, was completely wrecked. Here, 
too, the fisherfolk claim, on rare days, when the water 
is very quiet, the Flying Dutchman appears. ‘Tower- 
ing waves announce the phantom ship, which comes 
rolling in, riding the heavy seas; these break near the 
shore, and waves and ship disappear, leaving again 
the glass-smooth sea. 

The most noted of the little fishing villages is Perce, 
which lies in a low bowl where the gulf eats back into 
the shore in a semicircular bay. Out at the tip of the 
bay is Percé Rock, rising in a huge mass straight up 
from the water for nearly three hundred feet. Its 
grass-covered top forms a refuge for sea-birds. White 
clouds of them float about the rock; white blankets, 
dotted with black, drape the ledges. These birds are 
exquisite. And the wild music of their cries serves 
to warn mariners of the danger of the rocks, when they 
come blindly into the harbor in a thick fog. 

Where the water curls about the base of Perce 
there is a lofty arch, like a tunnel through the rock, 
high enough for boats to pass through. “Ile Percée is 
like a Rocke, very steepe, rising on both sides, wherein 
there is a hole, through which Shallops and Boates may 
pass at a high water; and at a lowe water one may goe 
from the maine Lande to the said Ile.’’ Standing be- 


84 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


side Percé is another giant which once was fastened to 
it by a rock-bridge. 

This strange Percé Rock had many Indian legends 
to explain it, and even the early settlers wove about it 
tales of supernatural happenings. Fisherfolk at the 
village of Percé will tell you that even now, at the 
ghostly hour when twilight merges into dark, the 
wraith of a woman may be seen hovering against the 
rock, or floating above it. A Breton maid, they say, 
crossing the wide seas to join her fiancé in New 
France, was captured by pirates, and she alone of all 
on board was spared, to become the property of the 
pirate-captain. To escape this fate she plunged into 
the gulf, as the buccaneer-ship neared Percé Rock, and 
was at once drowned. But the pirates saw her on the 
rock, beckoning to them. They drew near quickly, 
and to their horror their ship began to turn to stone. 
Frantically they tried to shove off; but a huge wave 
swept the ship against the rock, carrying the pirate- 
crew, as the wave surged back, to the bottom of the 
sea. There, for many years afterward, the fishermen 
of the neighborhood pointed out the granite masts and 
the slate sails of the ship plainly showing against the 
rock. Wind and weather have now almost obliterated 
them. But, even so, no mariner will go near Percé 
Rock after sundown, for fear the ghostly maid will 
turn his boat to stone. 

Behind the little village of Percé, the wooded slopes 
of Mont Sainte Anne rise abruptly about thirteen 


THE CHARM OF QUEBEC 85 


hundred feet, forming a striking and colorful back- 
ground. 

Offshore, three miles or so, lies Bonaventure Island, 
famous as a fishing-center, and wonderfully picturesque 
with its red and yellow cliffs, wind and wave-eaten into 
ledges, splashed with white and black and gray where 
sea-fowl hover. 

Cartier sought shelter behind this island in 1534 
when a furious storm arose; but he found the water 
dangerously rough and hastened to a harbor which his 
scout-boat had reported a short distance to the north. 
And so he came to Gaspé Bay. All the beauty of the 
ages, all the poetry of the centuries, all the romance 
of the world, seem here to be commingled. Broad 
blue water dotted with the white of lilting sails; gay, 
sun-splashed beaches of gold-red sand; warm-white 
houses against tree-dark hills sweeping up from the 
water, or fields of grain, wholly exotic, rippling in 
silver and lush green; and, beyond, against the sky, 
the ineffable smoke-blue of the mountains. Crystal 
streams tumble down from the hills into the bay, 
adding the beauty of falling water; and sand-dunes, far 
out, lie gold-yellow against the blue. Truly, Gaspé Bay 
is exquisite | 

When Cartier landed here he received a royal wel- 
come by the Indians who had come down the St. 
Lawrence for the fishing. Neither could speak a word 
of the other’s tongue, but through the universal lan- 
guage of gesture they carried on a lengthy conversa- 
tion. Cartier took possession of the land for his king, 


86 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


planting a cross bearing the words “Vive le Roi de 
France.’ The Indians exclaimed that the land be- 
longed to them; but a few gifts soon appeased them, 
and Cartier then persuaded two youths to return with 
him to France, that they might serve as interpreters 
on his next trip. At first they held back, frightened, 
but vanity won when Cartier brought out two flashing 
uniforms. They eagerly threw away their rags, 
donned these unheard-of clothes, and set sail gaily for 
France the following day, Cartier either failing to dis- 
cover the St. Lawrence on this first trip or purposely 
returning to France to winter there and prepare 
properly for exploration the following spring. 

Gaspé Bay, made easily accessible by the railroad 
which clings to the shore of Chaleur Bay and curves 
round the tip of the peninsula, is becoming increasingly 
popular as a summering-place. Lovers of sport are 
lured by the fine yachting and deep-sea fishing, and by 
the game that abounds in the forests back of Gaspé. 
Moose, caribou, deer and bear are here; in the hill- 
streams are salmon and trout; and wild-fowl frequent 
the rivers and the secluded lakes. 

The entire Gaspé Peninsula is rich in scenic beauty; 
and creatures of the wild wander through the woods, 
except where the railroad has frightened them away. 
But even the railroad does not bother the fish. The 
Matapedia River, which the train follows closely, is 
noted for its salmon. And the deep and narrow Mata- 
pedia Valley, with its rushing, singing water and its 
tree-clad walls, is equally noted for its exquisite scenery. 


THE CHARM OF QUEBEC 87 


Lake Matapedia, lying high in the hills, is a lovely bit 
of rippled blue, forest-trees hemming it in, overhead 


“White clouds, whose shadows haunt the deep. 
Light mists, whose soft embraces keep 
The sunshine on the hills asleep!” 


On the St. Lawrence shore, near Lake Matapedia, 
Metis Beach reaches back into the hills, while the St. 
Lawrence, nearly forty miles wide here, sweeps in like 
a broad green sea. 

A little farther up the river there is a harbor so 
lovely that its brief name, Bic, has now become ‘‘Beauti- 
ful Bic.” A bay curves into the shore; wooded hills 
rise back of the beach for more than a thousand feet; 
little islands are scattered in front. 

When, in the early days, Frenchmen landed on a bit 
of this south shore of the St. Lawrence where a stream 
comes gurgling down from the hills, the shoals at the 
mouth of the river were covered with seals, which they 
knew as sea-wolves, /oups-marins; and so the hill-river 
was called Riviere du Loup. That is now the name of 
both the stream and the attractive and important town 
at its mouth. 

Across the St. Lawrence, connected with Riviere du 
Loup by steamer, is the historic village of Tadoussac, 
lying at the mouth of one of the most remarkable 
rivers in the world—the Saguenay. 

Tadoussac is popular as a resort because of its wild 
and rugged setting; but the romance of centuries clings 
to it. From the earliest days it was one of the main 


88 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


fur-trading centers. Basque and Breton mariners 
came, to exchange gaudy baubles for valuable furs. 
Cartier stopped here in 1535 and named a headland 
the Point-of-All-the-Devils because “the windes doe 
strike into the say’d haven with a greate furie.”’ 
Champlain came in 1603, having with him two 
Montagnais interpreters who had been to France. 
They landed at the little Indian settlement, and Cham- 
plain went in state to call on the Sagamo, or great 
chief. The interpreters told the Sagamo of the French 
King and his powerful army, and of the excellent ally 
he would be; and thus Champlain was accorded a 
royal welcome, delivered in the usual very long speech. 


Then, he records, 


“Wee went out of his Cabine and they began to make 
their Tabagie or Feaste. . . . They had eight or ten 
Kettels full of meate in the middest of the said Cabine, 
and they were setting one fron another some six paces, — 
and each one vpon a seuerall fire. ‘The men sat on both 
sides the house, with his dish made of the barke of a 
tree; and when the meate is sodden, there is one which 
devideth to euery man his parte in the same dishes, 
wherein they feede very filthily, for when their handes 
be fattie, they rubbe them on their haire, or else on the 
haire of their Dogges. 

“Before their meate was sodden one of them rose vp 
and tooke a Dogge & danced about the said Kettels from 
the one ende of the Cabine to the other: when he came 
before the greate Sagamo he caste his Dogge perforce 
vpon the grounde and then all of them with one voice 


THE CHARM OF QUEBEC 89 


cried, ho, ho, ho, which being done he wente and sette 
him downs in his place; then immediately another rose 
vp and did the like. . . . When they had ended their 
Feaste they began to dance, taking the heades of their 
enemies in their handes which hanged vpon the walle 
behinde them; and in signe of joy there is one or two 
which sing, moderating their voice by the measure of 
their handes which they beate vpon their knees, then they 
reste sometimes, and cry, ho, ho, ho.” 


Champlain, the good Catholic, was interested in 
their theology—which he later denounced as “‘brutall 
and bestiall.’”” They believed in one god who created 
all things, the Sagamo told him. ‘This God tooke a 
certaine number of Arrowes and stucke them in the 
grounde from whence Man and Woman grew.” But 
the god became angry and sent a big flood over all the 
world. That would have been the end of everything 
had not Beaver taken hold of a birch-tree with his 
strong teeth and held the world above-water until the 
god came again and took the flood away. ‘They 
beleeue in one God, one Sonne, one Mother, and the 
Sunne, which were four—the Sonne was goode and the 
Sunne also; the Mother was naught and did eate them; 
and the Father was not very goode.” 

Champlain sailed up the Saguenay about sixty miles, 
until rapids turned him back; but the Indians told him 
of the beautiful lake, now St. John, which lay beyond, 
and of the rich copper mines in the region to the north. 

Lake St. John, called by the Indians ‘Flat Lake,” 
lies like a broad sea, almost circular in shape, cupped 


90 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


in the midst of rolling hills, with mountains rising be- 
yond. ‘The Thousand Islands of the Saguenay are 
scattered at the east end of the lake, where the water 
finds outlet, through two stretches of furious rapids, 
into the Saguenay River. A fertile valley surrounds 
this inland sea, and here French-Canadian farmers are 
leading happy and busy lives in a little world of their 
own. Grain, tobacco or potato fields lie side by side 
with dairying farms. 

Five large rivers and innumerable smaller streams 
flow into Lake St. John from all directions, and these 
abound in fish. In the lake are the famous ouananiche, 
or land-locked salmon, which anglers travel far to 
find. The rivers from the north—the Peribouka, 
Mistassimi, Ashuapmouchouan—come from fascinat- 
ing stretches of wilderness, unsettled and almost unex- 
plored. From the south the Ouiatchouan and the 
Metabetchouan bring to the St. John the water from 
a tangled labyrinth of lakes and streams. The 
Ouiatchouan Falls, nearly three hundred feet high, and 
in a wild setting, are wonderfully spectacular, especi- 
ally when the late spring floods swell the river. 

A legend of the Porcupine Indians claims that a 
maiden was enticed into the canoe of an unwelcome 
suitor and carried to midstream. MHer frantic cries 
brought her lover to the rescue, and in the fight all 
were swept over the Ouiatchouan Falls. The good 
Manitou caught the maiden and her lover and carried 
them safely to shore; but the wicked Indian perished, 
and the water that boils at the foot of the falls is 


THE CHARM OF QUEBEC 91 


caused by his thrashing about in his rage and his efforts 
to escape. 

On the shores of the lake, at Pointe Bleue, there is a 
reservation of Montagnais; and these interesting 
Indians, whose ancestors for centuries wandered 
through the mountains of this region and traveled its 
many waterways, make the finest kind of guides and 
canoemen. Often, about the campfire at night, if the 
white man be wholly en rapport, they will recount, in 
rhythmic singsong or short staccato sentences, some of 
the lore of their ancient tribe. 

Roberval is the principal town on the lake, but there 
are many smaller villages. A railroad runs up from 
Quebec, skirts the southern shore of Lake St. John and 
follows down the Saguenay to Chicoutimi. 

In 1647 Father de Quen, the first white man to reach 
this interesting region, was paddled up the Saguenay as 
far as Chicoutimi, and from there his guides, knowing 
the impassable rapids above, took him to ‘‘Flat Lake” 
by way of Lake Kemogami, Lac Verte, and so beautiful 
a river that De Quen at once named it La Belle Riviere. 

Much of Canada’s early romance centers about her 
missionaries. ‘The lives of the first Recollet, Jesuit 
and Sulpician fathers who came to the wilderness are 
a pean of courage and heroism, of unbelievable forti- 
tude, of a faith that was deep and devout, and a zeal 
that knew no discouragement. 

“One must submit to infinite Fatigues and barren 
and ingrateful Labour,” one Jesuit wrote in his report. 
“Patience is absolutely necessary for this Employ. All 


92 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


along our Travels we dined upon the Ground. A 
Fagot of Cedar was our Pillow in the Night; our 
Cloaks our Coverlets; our Knees our Table; some 
Bushes tied together our Seats; the Leaves of Indian 
Corn our Napkins. We had some Knives, but they 
were of no use to us for want of Bread to cut.” 

The Indians at first looked with suspicion on these 
‘“Black-robes” and the ‘“Bare-feet’’; for the medicine- 
men, fearing for their own power, declared the friars 
to be sorcerers, and their books and rosaries part of 
the witchcraft. But the sheer courage of the mission- 
aries won admiration. The first converts, however, 
were made with much difficulty. The Indians believed 
that after death they went to a glorious existence in a 
Happy Hunting-ground, where life was one eternal 
round of pleasures—hunting, fishing, family joys. 
‘“They beleeue that the dead go into farre Countries to 
make merrie with their friends.’ In comparison, the 
white man’s Heaven seemed a gloomy abode with 
ceaseless monotony—no wife, no small son to teach 
the ways of the forest, no hunting, no fishing. They 
preferred their own Hereafter. 

It is the lower reaches of the Saguenay which make 
it so remarkable a river. Glacial action cleaved a 
chasm sixty miles long straight through mountains 
nearly two thousand feet high, digging so deeply that 
the bottom of the river is in places a thousand feet 
below sea-level. ‘The centuries have clothed the stern 
cliffs with pine-trees, and the scenery is one of somber 
magnificence, with the sublime grandeur of towering 


THE CHARM OF QUEBEC 93 


cliffs and immensely deep fjords. Cape Eternity, ris- 
ing 1700 feet sheer from the water, and the nearby 
Cape Trinity, 1500 feet, are the river’s most majestic 
moments. ‘This stretch of the Saguenay is both grand 
and awful; one never passes it without a shudder. 

‘A faire Riuer,’’ Champlain wrote of this mighty 
stream, ‘‘and of incredible depth, which cometh downe 
from a very high place from whence there descendeth 
a fall of water with greate impetuositie. All the 
Countrie which I saw was nothing but Mountaines, the 
most parte of Rockes cover’d with woodes of Firre- 
trees, Cypresses and Birch-trees.”’ 

When Champlain was leaving Tadoussac at this 
time, 1603, “to returne vnto France, one of the 
Sagamos of the Mountayners gaue his Sonne to M. 
du Pont to carrie him into France. Wee prayed them 
to giue vs a woman of the Irocois who they were to 
haue eaten: who they gave vnto vs, and we brought 
her home with the foresaid Sauage.”’ 

From Tadoussac up the St. Lawrence the north shore 
of the Great River of Canada is one of much beauty 
and grandeur, with bays opening out, rivers falling 
down from the hills, and in the background the blue 
of the Laurentian Mountains. An island in St. Paul 
Baie is a mountain which fell there, it is claimed, dur- 
ing a cataclysmic earthquake in 1663 when “the earth 
began not merely to quake but to boil and surge.” 
The Isle-aux-Coudres was doubled in size by another 
mountain which fell at the same time, it is said. As 
recently as 1925 Baie St. Paul was much shaken by an 


94 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


earthquake and great damage was done, although 
fortunately no mountains fell. 

The most popular resort of the Lower St. Lawrence 
is Murray Bay, which lies on this north shore of the 
river. When Champlain sailed into it in 1603 he 
named it “La Malle Baie” because of ‘‘the tides which 
there doe runne prodigiously,”’ and to this day the 
natives call it La Malbaie. Between Point a Pic and 
Cap al Aigle a crescent arm of the river curves back to 
form the lovely bay. Luxurious hotels, beautiful 
summer homes, a golf course that is the pride of 
Canada, and similar excellent attractions make Murray 
Bay a resort for those who seek a gay summering- 
place. At the same time there is a wholly different 
charm in the quaint old French village which keeps 
aloof on the banks of its river. Where the hills rise 
back of the bay there are luring forests, with caribou, 
bear and other wild creatures wandering about but 
keeping a wary eye on their enemy man. Ravines 
wind down, musical with falling water. Streams and 
lakes entice the camper. 

The railroad between the city of Quebec and 
Murray Bay passes through quaint little French- 
Canadian villages lying between hills and river, their 
bright church-spires ever dominating the scenery. 
Much of Quebec’s charm centers about her habitants. 
Through all the centuries these descendants of the early 
French colonists to Canada have preserved their tradi- 
tions, their language, and their individuality. “They 
are not French today: whole-heartedly and intensely 





Courtesy, Canadian National Rys. 


FISHING IN THE LAURENTIAN MOUNTAINS 
These streams, alone, are an allure, with their wild and beautiful 
setting. 


"days 0} days wif sapeosed I se ajsey OU UF Si 19}BM JY, 
AVA AVUMOAW ‘STIVA YASVUA 


“SKY [DUOIIDAT UDIPDUDD ‘KSaqanoy 


i “3 





THE CHARM OF QUEBEC 95 


they are Canadian. There is a cherished love for 
France, the Mother Country, and a real admiration 
for Great Britain; but the deep and ardent love is for 
Canada. 

They are wholly charming, these habitants, unspoiled 
by the outside world, uninterested in modern innova- 
tions. Their little villages might be bits of old Nor- 
mandy or Brittany transplanted—except that the 
whitewashed houses are immaculate. Gran’mere, 
with her quaint costume and lovable ways, and 
gran’pére, plodding beside his ox-team, hauling frag- 
rant hay to the barn, might have stepped straight out 
of a story-book—a very delightful story-book. The 
loom and the spinning-wheel occupy as important a 
place in the household as the tall iron stove and the 
high old bed with its drawers of trundle-beds beneath, 
where the family of ten to twenty children pile in 
snugly. In the yard, often edging onto the road, is 
the great outdoor oven where the family bread is 
baked, and where the dog and the wee children curl 
up beside the warm rocks, sniffing the pleasant odors. 

When the day’s work is done, the violin croons a 
soft accompaniment while pére leads in the singing of 
the old habitant songs which his ancestors sang in the 
long ago when they tilled this very same land for some 
Seignior. In winter evenings, when dark comes early, 
the children gather about the cheerful tall stove and 
listen, wide-eyed, to tales of the terrible loup-garou, 
or to more pleasant tales of life here when gran’pére 
was young or when his gran’pére was a boy. The 


96 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


goodnight story is always a happy one, with quaint 
humor, so dreams will be undisturbed. Many tales 
are woven about Dalbec, who in the long ago lived at 
Ste. Anne—perhaps. 

Dalbec, it seems, was a famous hunter. One day 
when he was returning home through the forest he 
came to a little lake, and in the reeds on the opposite 
shore he saw a fox just stooping to drink. He quickly 
raised his gun; but as he took aim, six ducks swam out 
of the reeds near the fox. He had only one cartridge 
left. Should it be the fox, or a fine fat duck for 
supper? The mighty hunter bent the gun-barrel into 
a circle, killed all six of the ducks, the fox, and the 
bullet then came back and broke the leg of the dog 
standing beside him. And, gran’pere adds, “C'est 
bien vrail”’ 

This same Dalbec, with remarkably keen ears, once 
heard some wild-geese flying over his cottage as he 
sat at supper. It was pitch-dark outside and he could 
see nothing, but he shot in the direction of the honk- 
ing. He waited, but no goose fell, so he went to bed. 
The next morning when he stepped out of the door, 
two wild-geese dropped at his feet—they had been so 
high it had taken them all night to fall! 

Among themselves the habitants speak only French 
—sometimes a patois, often a remarkably pure French. 
Many of them know no other language; but many 
speak, in addition to their mother-tongue, a’ charming 
habitant-English. 


THE CHARM OF QUEBEC 97 


“You can pass on de worl’ w’erever you lak, 

Tak’ de steamboat for go Angleterre, 

Tak’ car on de State, an’ den you come back, 
An’ go all de place, I don’t care— 

Ma frien’, dat’s a fack, I know you will say, 
W’en you come on dis contree again, 

Dere’s no girl can touch, w’at we see ev'ry day, 
De nice leetle Canadienne.” 


For quaint and lasting charm, for wealth of historic 
lore, for lingering, haunting memories, no city can 
compare with delightful, walled Quebec. 

There are two cities: the Lower Town, where one is 
swept back three centuries, each winding street a bit 
more quaint, a bit more picturesque, than every other 
street, it seems; and the modern Upper Town of 
beautiful residences, important stores, and_ hotels 
famous for their excellence. 

Quebec is built upon a great mass of gray rock, “a 
verrie highe Mountayne which falleth downe on both 
ye sides,” where the St. Charles River flows into the 
St. Lawrence. Beyond the “‘verrie highe Mountayne”’ 
is a “‘leuel & goodlie Countrie’” which is famous in 
history as the Plains of Abraham. 

When Cartier sailed up the Great River of Canada 
in 1535, having with him the two Indians he had 
dressed in flashy uniforms and taken to France the pre- 
ceding year, he had lost hope of the river’s leading to 
China, yet he was no less eager to enter the heart of 
this land which the Indians painted so alluringly. 
They told him he was approaching their home, the 


98 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


Huron settlement of Stadacona—where the city of 
Quebec now stands—and the next day “‘ledict cappi- 
taine’’ with his ‘‘gentilz hommes” and fifty men landed 
and went to call on the Huron chief, Donnacona. 
There was great rejoicing at the return of the two 
braves, who had come from a world beyond the seas; 
and Cartier was royally feasted. But when he wished 
to continue up the river, on to the Huron town 
of Hochelaga—present Montreal—objections were 
raised. ‘There were impassable rapids, he was told; 
the forests were filled with ferocious beasts that lay 
in waiting by the portages. 

When these direful warnings had no effect on 
Cartier, the Indians resorted to an amazing scheme. 
The French were lured to the banks of the river, where 
Donnacona kept them entertained, until suddenly they 
were startled by frightful howls. Floating down from 
the direction of Hochelaga came a canoe containing 
three huge Devils—Indians dressed in dogskins, 
bison-horns fastened to their heads, their faces luridly 
painted. The Devils paid no attention to the men 
on shore, but as they passed they chanted in a loud 
and mournful voice that they came from the dead as 
a warning that any one who went up-river would perish 
in the ice and snow. The canoe drifted ashore near 
Cartier, and the three wailing Devils got out and pro- 
ceeded to ‘“‘die,”” whereupon all the Indians threw them- 
selves upon the ground and set up a weird and distres- 
sing howl. 

Still unawed, Cartier and seventy of his men 


THE CHARM OF QUEBEC 99 


ascended the St. Lawrence as far as Hochelaga. This 
Indian settlement stood upon such a fine eminence 
above the river that Cartier named the hill Mont Réal, 
his Norman French for Royal Mount; and that name 
it has retained through all the centuries. 

Returning to Stadacona, Cartier built a rude fort 
and wintered there; for ice in the river tied up his 
little fleet. It was a dreary and tragic winter for 
his men; but for Cartier, with his eager mind, it 
was not without interest. The Indian medicine-men 
especially intrigued him, for these were the mouth- 
pieces of the Devil. While the savages crowded round 
in awe, the medicine-men held the invisible Devil tied 
to a pole in the ground. His message received, the 
Devil was released, and the crowd broke into loud 
shouts, jumped over the fire, rushed into the nearest 
tent, and put “halfe a pole out of the toppe of the 
Cabine, with something tied thereto, which the Diuell 
carrieth away.” Cartier adds, disgustedly, ‘‘They 
teache their eldest Sonnes the mysterie of this Iniqui- 
tie.” 

In 1541 Cartier came again to Stadacona and 
attempted a settlement; but the Indians now were 
hostile, for he had carried off with him their beloved 
chief Donnacona and many of their friends, all of 
whom had died in France. Roberval came shortly 
afterward; but he, too, found hostility, and his settle- 
ment had to be abandoned. And so the foundation of 
Quebec was left to Champlain; the fortified group 
of houses which he built in 1608 formed the begin- 


100 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


ning of the present quaint and lovely city. The name 
Stadacona had disappeared with the Hurons; and 
Champlain’s settlement took the name the Abenaki 
Indians applied to this part of the great river, Kebek, 
“Narrow.” 

From the very beginning of Quebec, history piled 
fast upon it. It was a coveted stronghold, constantly 
assaulted by the English. In 1629 it was captured, 
but soon returned by treaty; a century and a quarter 
of further struggle ensued; and in 1759 came the 
memorable battle familiar to every schoolboy, when 
Wolfe, mortally wounded, heard some one shout, 
‘They run!” and raised himself to ask eagerly, ‘“Who 
run?” ‘The enemy,” he was told, and he dropped 
back with a sigh of great content. ‘God be praised, I 
now die in peace,” he said. Montcalm, who so 
valiantly had defended the city, and who also was 
mortally wounded, died in an anguish of uncertainty 
the following day, not knowing whether the French 
army then marching toward Quebec would turn the 
tide for his beloved France or whether the colony was 
irretrievably lost. 

Canada was ceded to England four years later; and 
thus, as British territory when the American Revolu- 
tion broke out, Quebec again found itself under siege. 
Benedict Arnold, approaching from Lake Champlain, 
was met by General Montgomery, who already had 
taken Montreal, and they planned a surprise attack on 
the night of December 31, 1775, in the midst of a 
blinding snowstorm. But their plans had reached the 


THE CHARM OF QUEBEC IOI 


British, and the heavy guns were ready. The Ameri- 
cans knew this, but they rushed to the attack, only to 
be mowed down. General Montgomery was killed, 
Benedict Arnold wounded, and many prisoners were 
taken. 

After the War of 1812 “historic Quebec’ knew a 
century of peace; but when the World War came 
she was among the first to muster her heroic sons, and 
they were among the Canadian Contingent that sailed 
from Gaspé Bay in October, 1914. 

The four centuries of history that enwrap Quebec 
permeate the town with their glamour and romance. 
The tragedies have been softened; the joys a thou- 
sandfold magnified. Of the yesterdays there linger 
now but colorful memories. There’s a spell here, 
and it lays a gripping hold upon the visitor as he 
wanders about the quaint and winding streets. He 
senses the haunting, elusive atmosphere, the ghosts 
of the years that have gone. 

But there is a very wide-awake, up-to-date atmos- 
phere, too, in this charming city of Quebec. This is 
especially true in winter, when the sports lure crowds 
from the gay cities in the States to gayer Quebec for 
tobogganing, snowshoeing, skiing, skimming over the 
hills behind an Alaskan dog-team, or the many other 
winter joys tobe had here. Dufferin Terrace is famous 
the world over. | 

A fine view of Quebec is to be had by approaching the 
city from Levis, across the St. Lawrence. At this 
distance the town shows in a magnificent panorama, 


102 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


perched superbly above the river, with its towered 
hotel, its impressive citadel, the frowning guns on its 
ramparts, and the many boats, from all the world 
over, riding at anchor at its feet. 

Another short boat-ride which affords a fine pan- 
oramic view of the city is to the Isle of Orleans. 
The Indians called this twenty-mile stretch of land in 
the midst of the St. Lawrence, Minegoo, ‘“The Island”’; 
but Cartier named it L’ile de Bacchus, because of the 
plentiful wild-grape vines laden with luscious fruit. 

Many delightful short-trips may be made from 
Quebec. The most famous of these is to Ste. Anne de 
Beaupré, with its noted shrine to La Bonne Sainte 
Anne, visited annually by a quarter of a million pil- 
grims. 

At some date prior to 1628 Breton sailors were 
caught in a storm that raged upon the St. Lawrence 
and threatened destruction to their small fishing-craft. 
They appealed to Sainte Anne, the patroness of their 
loved Brittany, vowing that if she would save them 
they would erect a shrine to her on the most beautiful 
spot they could find. They saw ahead of them the 
shore of Minegoo, ‘“The Island,” its trees, beyond the 
rolling waves, spray-drenched and lovely. Almost at 
once the river magically grew calm, and the men began 
to row toward a wooded point of this island, intend- 
ing there to erect their shrine. But La Bonne Sainte 
Anne willed it otherwise. A strong wind blew from 
the east and the waves rose again and swept the little 
boat across to the north shore of the St. Lawrence. 


THE CHARM OF QUEBEC 103 


There the sailors landed, on Petit Cap; and it seemed 
to them as lovely a place as could be found in all the 
world. A small stretch of grassland, which they 
named Beau Pré, ‘‘Beautiful Meadow,”’ extended back 
from the river, and rising above it were the steep 
Laurentian hills, covered with shaggy-lovely trees. 
Here they built their shrine; and Ste. Anne de 
Beaupré soon became the Mecca for all fishermen who 
sailed into the St. Lawrence. Its fame spread, and a 
missionary was appointed. ‘The first recorded miracle 
occurred when the original crude chapel was being 
replaced by a substantial church in 1659 and an old 
man, bent double with rheumatism, hobbled up to lay, 
with a world of devotion, one of the foundation- 
stones. Instantly he was well and strong. Shortly 
afterward a woman, paralyzed for a year and a half, 
a helpless invalid, was carried to the shrine, and 
scarcely had she uttered her first prayer to La Bonne 
Sainte Anne when she found herself completely well. 
These miracles, recorded by the Jesuits in their 
‘Relations,’ spread far and wide; and from that day 
the Good Sainte Anne ever has paid heed to the appeals 
of the truly devout. At the time of a disastrous fire 
which destroyed the church in 1922, great stacks of 
crutches were evidences of some of the many miracles 
that faith in this good saint has compassed. A tem- 
porary church was at once erected, and work on the 
new basilica, a very beautiful and worthy cathedral, 
was soon begun; so that pilgrimages to the shrine 
were uninterrupted. Thousands continue to come, to 


104 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


kneel at the foot of the Miraculous Statue and pray 
to the Mother of the Virgin Mary for her intercession. 

To Catholics the priceless treasure at this shrine is 
a piece of the wristbone of Sainte Anne, its authenticity 
vouched for by letters which hang on the wall nearby. 
Protestants find equally interesting a very beautiful 
painting by Le Brun presented to the church in 1666. 

The railroad which runs from Quebec to the pretty 
little village of Ste. Anne de Beaupré passes Mont- 
morency Falls. The cataract, 274 feet high, is so milk- 
foamy white that the French peasants called it La 
Vache, the Cow. The Abenaki Indians of the old 
days believed that this spectacular fall was a favorite 
haunt of the Spirit of the Water; and once a year, 
at the Feast of the Falling Water, they brought him 
gifts—tobacco, shell-beads, beaver-skins—and cast 
them into the spray at the foot of the fall, chanting 
a rhythmic prayer for abundant crops and plentiful 
fish. As the water was then heavy with spring floods, 
the gifts were swept into the St. Lawrence, and the 
Great River carried the message to all its tributaries to 
water the land of the Abenakis, and to fill their nets 
with fish. The falls are very beautiful, and they have 
historic interest as well, with the Kent House perched 
above them and a. famous battleground at their foot. 

North of the city of Quebec lies a wild and lake- 
sprinkled wilderness, reached by the railroad running 
to Lake St. John and on to Chicoutimi on the 
Saguenay. This line passes such delightful places as 
Indian Lorette, with an interesting Huron settlement, 


- 


Courtesy, Canadian Pacific 


é 





MONTMORENCY FALLS 
Here the Indians brought offerings to the Spirit 
of the Water. 








Courtesy, 





Canadian National Rys. 


ON THE LOWER ST. LAWRENCE 
Where an arm of the river reaches back into the Gaspé Hills. 


THE CHARM OF QUEBEC 105 


a spectacular waterfall and a wild rock-gorge; and 
Lake Edward, which the Indians knew as the Lake- 
of-the-Many-Islands, and which the white man knows 
for its rushing rapids and gamy fish. And it passes 
near the Laurentides Park, a reserve covering about 
three thousand square miles of wildwood. 

The scenery in Laurentides Park is extremely wild. © 
From a watershed which crosses it, rivers rush south 
to the St. Lawrence and north to the Saguenay. The 
hills are heavily timbered and are blue with many 
lakes. In the frothing rivers that pour down *the 
ravines, trout abound; and moose and caribou are 
plentiful in the forests. The Jacques Cartier Lake 
and River are especially noted for their fine sport and 
their scenic beauty. 

The Chaudiere River pours into the St. Lawrence 
very nearly opposite Quebec. Its headwaters, not far 
from the United States border, are in a region that is 
a network of rivers, streams, and narrow, winding 
lakes. ‘The largest of the lakes are the Memphre- 
magog, which spills across into Vermont and at its 
upper end connects with Lake Magog, and Lake 
Megantic, whose gamy trout afford rare sport to the 
angler. 

One of the oldest cities in Canada is Trois Rivieres, 
situated picturesquely on the north bank of the St. 
Lawrence, where the broad and historic St. Maurice, 
famed for its beautiful Shawinigan Falls, sweeps down 
from a string of lakes in the hills, to end here in the 
Great River. 


106 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


In the long ago the St. Maurice formed the 
boundary between the Huron country and that of the 
Algonquins. One day a party of Hurons went hunt- 
ing on the shores of the river, above Shawinigan Falls; 
and in the late afternoon they started downstream with 
loaded canoes. When they came near to the head of 
the cataract, where the portage must begin, they began 
paddling to shore; but suddenly the woods were alive 
with Algonquins. They quickly turned to the oppo- 
site bank; but there, too, the enemy was waiting, howl- 
ing with glee. Near the Hurons was the edge of the 
cataract; it was impossible to pull back upstream 
against the strong current; to land meant falling into 
the hands of merciless enemies. The Huron chief 
stood up, tall and straight in his canoe, gave a mock- 
ing yell to the Algonquins, and steered for the foaming 
precipice. His people did the same; and all were 
dashed to pieces at the bottom of the fall, one hundred 
and fifty feet below. | 

When the early missionaries came into this region 
the Indians took them at twilight and tried to point 
out to them—from a safe distance—the ghost-canoe 
with the ghost-chieftain proudly going over the preci- 
pice. Almost, as the wind swept the foam outward and 
the gathering dark gave it vague outlines, they could be 
seen. In these prosaic days of powerhouses and pulp- 
mills, however, even the wraith of the Huron chief 
must refuse to come back to a country he knew only 
as a beautiful wilderness. 

Above Trois Rivieres, for twenty-five miles, the St. 


THE CHARM OF QUEBEC 107 


Lawrence is so broad it is known as Lake St. Peter; 
and at the upper end of this lake the Richelieu River 
brings to the St. Lawrence its burden of water from 
Lake Champlain. The Richelieu was a much used high- 
way during the American Revolution; during the pre- 
ceding century and a half of French and English 
struggles; and for untold centuries before the white 
men came. In 1610 Champlain and his Montagnais 
friends were preparing to camp on one of the islands 
opposite the mouth of this river when word came that 
their Algonquin allies were attacking a large party of 
Iroquois who had come down the Richelieu looking for 
scalps. The Algonquins were in urgent need of assist- 
ance, and Champlain and his men went with the Mont- 
agnais to their aid. But, 


“Before the said Mountayners set forth to the Warre, 
they assembled all, with their richest apparell of Furres, 
Beauers, and other Skinnes adorn’d with Pater-nosters 
[beads] and Chaines of diuers colors, and assembled in 
a greate publicke place, where there was before them a 
Sagamo which led them to the Warre; and they march’d 
one behind another, with their Bowes and Arrowes, 
Mases and Targets, wherewith they furnish themselues 
to fight: and they went leaping one after another, in 
making many gestures of their Body’s, they made many 
turnings like a Snaile: afterward they began to dance 
after their accustomed manner, as I haue said before: 
then they made their Feaste. . . . and then they went 
into the Water, and strooke at one another with their 
oares, and beate Water vpon another: yet they did no 


108 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


hurt, for they warded the blows which they strooke one 
at another. After they had ended all those ceremonies, 
the Sauages went to Warre against the Irocois.” 


The Richelieu was then known as the River of the 
Iroquois. When Champlain sailed up it in 1609, 
about twelve miles before he reached the lake which 
bears his name he came to a long and densely wooded 
island, and named it L’ile aux Noix because of the many 
nut-trees. Years later, when the French found it 
necessary to control the Richelieu River, then the great 
highway of both the Iroquois and the English, a fort 
was built at this strategic point on the Ile aux Noix. 
During all the French and English and Indian 
struggles, and during the American Revolution and the 
War of 1812, this French fort and its English successor 
saw eventful history. At the cost of millions of 
dollars the English then constructed the present impos- 
ing and substantial buildings which comprise Fort 
Lennox, and which, long ago abandoned as a mili- 
tary post, the Canadian National Parks preserves as a 
historic site. 

In 1611 Champlain cleared a space on the Island 
of Montreal, intending to make of it neutral territory 
with a trading-post where all Indian tribes might come 
to trade peacefully; but the city of Montreal, which 
now spreads along the eastern shore of the island, 
was not founded until thirty years later when the 
Sieur de Maisonneuve, inspired by supernatural visions 
and voices which bade him establish a great Roman 


THE CHARM OF QUEBEC 109 


Catholic center in New France, built the little settle- 
ment here as the first step toward his ‘‘Kingdom of 
God,” and named it Ville-Marie. The Huron name 
Hochelaga had disappeared with their village; and 
the fur-trading camp which had existed for a few weeks 
each year was known merely as The Sault, from the 
rapids nearby. 

As the St. Lawrence is the Great River of Canada, 
so Montreal is the Great City of Canada. And it is a 
proud and surpassingly beautiful city. Mont Royal, 
on which Cartier stood in 1534 and looked far out 
over the country of the Huron-Iroquois, stands today 
as majestically, as superbly, keeping watch over the 
widespread city. From its summit, on a clear day, Lake 
Champlain may be seen, a far-off valley of silver, 
stretching between purpled hills which are the Adiron- 
dacks and the Green Mountains. In the foreground, 
out over a glimmering sea of roofs and spires, and 
many lovely trees, the blue-green St. Lawrence, silvered 
by the sun, narrows to strands of white raging between 
green islands, lies in a ribbon of green silver, then 
broadens to the beautiful Lake St. Louis. To the 
west, the Lake-of-the-[wo-Mountains leads into the 
Ottawa, blue even across the far stretch of meadows. 
And to the north, beyond glittering bands of rivers 
dotted with innumerable islands, the Laurentian 
Mountains sweep back, the smoke-blue of their foot- 
hills merging into soft violet that turns to mauve 
where it meets the sky. 

As the largest city in Canada, and one of the largest 


110 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


in the two Americas, Montreal is vitally alive, pulsing 
with the energy of a big commercial center, important 
as one of the greatest shipping ports on the continent. 
It is a thoroughly modern, teemingly active city. But 
there is also another side. For in the French quarter, 
centering about the quaint Bonsecours Market, a 
wholly different atmosphere prevails. Passing from 
the ultra-modern town into the sleepy, old-world streets 
of the French quarter, one is led to believe in fairy- 
tales, in the power of the magic wand that can sweep 
away two centuries or more and carry one back to the 
Ville-Marie of the fur-trading days, the good old 
days of the voyageurs and the coureurs de bois. 

Few large cities are a lure to the vacationist; and yet 
Montreal, situated so delightfully on an island in the 
midst of the St. Lawrence, with mountains rising be- 
yond, has much to offer. In every direction there is 
water. The canoe-trails are a lure which few can 
resist. There are lakes and river-bays where the 
waves are restless enough to give zest toa sail. ‘The 
wooded hills call to those who love the forests. A 
nearby Indian reservation is a constant attraction; and 
the quaint habitant villages on the island are ever in- 
teresting. 

In winter there are even more allurements, for no 
city in the western hemisphere can surpass Montreal in 
winter sports. The toboggan-slides and ice-rinks are 
the finest in America. The hills for skiing and snow- 
shoeing or for the old-fashioned bobsledding, the 
hard-packed roads for sleighing, and the frozen 


THE CHARM OF QUEBEC III 


rivers and iceways cannot be excelled. Health and 
joy and verve are to be had in Montreal’s out-of-doors 
in winter-time. There is a stimulant in the gay colors 
and the flying figures, exhilaration in the pure air, and 
beauty in the snow-covered hills. For those who like 
the carnival-spirit, colorful Frost King pageants are 
held. 

Montreal Island lies at the mouth of the Ottawa 
River, which the Indians called the River of the 
Algonquins, and the early voyageurs named Grand 
River. From its source in a string of irregular, long, 
winding lakes, the Ottawa follows a tortuous course, 
almost doubling upon itself before turning definitely 
eastward and joining the St. Lawrence in the Lake- 
of-the-[wo-Mountains. The length of the river is 
nearly a thousand miles. About four hundred miles of 
its less erratic course forms part of the boundary be- 
tween Quebec and Ontario. 

The Ottawa is considered one of the most beautiful 
rivers in Canada. Dense forests shut it in; rocks in 
its bed cause surging rapids and many cascades; where 
the river is less impetuous the water lingers to form 
broad and wind-blown lakes, with trees edging the 
shores and islands cropping up. The upper reaches of 
the river lie near the height-of-land; and across the 
watershed are lakes feeding many streams flowing to 
James Bay, the big southern arm of Hudson Bay. 

The Ottawa leads the canoeist to a vast region of 
almost continuous waterways, where he may traverse 
hundreds of miles with no long portage. ‘There is a 


112 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


wide variety of choice in routes. Some cling largely 
to broad, still lakes and deep and winding rivers, while 
others are frequently spiced with what Father Henne- 
pin terms “‘most rapid and horrible Currents full of 
greate Rockes, where the water roars Night and Day 
like the most Frightfull Thunder.” <A railroad runs 
from Montreal to Labelle, on the Riviére Rouge, and 
continues on to Mont Laurier, on Riviére du Liévre. 
Both of these towns are in the very heart of the canoe 
country, and from either a fascinating route may be 
followed—off into a region where there are no roads 
except the luring waterways. 


“And, oh, the beauty I have found! 
Such beauty, beauty everywhere; 
‘The beauty creeping on the ground, 
‘The beauty singing through the air.” 


A large part of northern Quebec is virtually unex- 
plored wilderness. There are vast areas without a 
habitation, except perhaps a little Naskapi or Ungava 
settlement or a lone Hudson’s Bay post. In the rivers 
and the many lakes there is an unlimited supply of fish; 
in the forests there is almost an unlimited supply of 
furs. Iron and many other minerals, including gold, 
have been discovered. Champlain reported copper: 
“there is toward the North a Mine of fine Copper, 
whereof they showed vs certaine Bracelets, which they 
had receiued of a Nation which are called the goode 


THE CHARM OF QUEBEC 113 


Irocois.”” From the upper reaches of the rivers flow- 
ing into Lake St. John there are several canoe routes 
through this northern region; but they are difficult 
routes, with many falls and rapids, long portages and 
unbroken trails; and so, much of this great country 
remains with the fascination of the unexplored, call- 
ing to the adventure-lover to come and see what may 
lie beyond the next bend. 

The Hamilton River and the Naskapi flow from a 
group of large lakes that lie on the height-of-land, 
three or four thousand feet above sea-level; and in 
their descent these rivers form many superb cataracts. 

The Grand Falls of the Hamilton are especially 
spectacular, where the water drops more than three 
hundred feet from a broad precipice into a deep rock- 
canyon, the thunderous noise echoing and re-echoing 
against the high cliffs. Across the watershed, in the 
dense forests that clothe the northern hills, there may 
be other falls as grand as this one—waiting to be 
discovered. 

A few Naskapi Indians still wander through this 
central plateau, living their gloriously free lives, wor- 
shiping, as did their remote ancestors, the sun and 
the spirits in the trees and the water. They believe 
that the stars are children of the sun. Before this 
great god starts out in the morning he puts all his 
children to bed; and when he comes home in the eve- 
ning he wakes them up and places them in the sky, to 
keep watch on the world while he is asleep. Some- 


114 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


times he is so tired that he forgets to do this, and then 
the sky is dark because the stars, too, are sleeping. 

South of the Naskapi country the Montagnais 
roamed. One of the early Jesuits tells a story of three 
of his converts. These Montagnais, good Christians 
all, went to visit some Hurons who had not yet been 
brought into the Faith. A delicious elk stew was 
served, the elk-meat minced very fine. Alas, it was 
a day when good Catholics were forbidden to eat meat; 
yet Indian etiquette demanded that they eat every- 
thing set before them. Should they disobey the white 
man’s God and partake of the stew, which smelled so 
delectable; or should they offend their Huron hosts 
and leave it untouched? ‘This was a nice problem; 
and with great nicety the Montagnais settled it. Pick- 
ing out each small morsel of meat, they ate the soup 
that remained. But one of them, the temptation too 
great, put a piece of meat on his tongue, just for the 
joy of holding it in his mouth—and swallowed it. This 
so troubled his conscience that he went to the priest 
and confessed. 

This same Montagnais asked the good Jesuit if it 
were really true that God created heaven and earth. 
Being assured that He did, the Indian then asked: “If 
there was neither heaven nor earth at that time, where 
did God Himself live?” 

With all of Quebec’s allurements—and in so vast a 
territory, and with such a wealth of historic lore and 
romance, there are many—none is greater than the 


THE CHARM OF QUEBEC IIS 


beauty of her forests, whether in the wilds of the 
north, where few men go, or in the woodland stretches 
of the south, where quiet lakes lie calling— 


“‘Leetle Lac Grenier she’s all alone, 

No broder, no seester near, 

But de swallow fly, an’ de beeg moose deer 
An’ caribou too will go long way 

‘To drink de sweet water of Lac Grenier. ... 
Leetle Lac Grenier, O let me go! 

Don’t spik no more, 

For your voice is strong lak de rapid’s roar, 
An’ you know yourse’f I’m too far away 
For visit you now—leetle Lac Grenier!” 








a ob Pe es 


ls Cie 





‘ Met 
\ 
a 
Pall e ie? 
i 
j 4 
’ ' e 
‘ 
\ 
s 
i 
th 
TA 
+ I) 
Te | ot iw 
ir ¥ i 
‘io y 
¢ i 
i) 
° "7 
A a 
} he @ i 
AS ay ae eet, j 
F | 
: * mut WE aah 
a , : FAs 
‘1 ‘d iat ‘ 
if fi " 
y 5 f ¢ j EyO sits 
mh Pata dy in th a 
pied athe par of 
4 tt oar). AF 
. fa dode 


‘| 


» 


i itt 


ee 








Cie 








V. ONTARIO’S LOVELY LAKES 


OTTAWA, THE BEAUTIFUL CAPITAL 

On LAKE TEMISKAMING 

TEMAGAMI’S LURE 

LAKE NIPISSING AND FRENCH RIVER 
THE LEGEND OF THE FIvE MEN 

In ALGONQUIN PARK 

A LEGEND OF MUSKOKA LAKES 

THE LAKE-OF-BaAys DISTRICT 

THE CHARM OF THE KAWARTHA LAKES 
A LEGEND OF THE RIDEAU LAKES 

THE THOUSAND ISLANDS 

ALONG LAKE ONTARIO 

In Gay Toronto 

NraGaRA FALts, “THUNDERING WATER” 
Historic LAKE ERIE 

LAKE HuRON AND GEORGIAN BAY 

THE ROMANCE OF SAULT SAINTE MARIE 
H1awaTuHa’s “Bic SEA WATER” 

TuHeE Lovety Nipicon REGION 

LEGENDS OF NANIBOUJOU 

THE Twin CITIES ON THUNDER BAY 
IN THE WILDS OF QUETICO PARK 

THE Rainy LAKE REGION 
CANOE-TRAILS IN THE WILDERNESS 

THE LAKE-OF-THE-WoopsS AND MINAKI 
THE WAITING NorRTH 


Wigs 


ce Mn RHE 







ee an i ey ‘ iy oy 










t Un Faia i? ATY e ‘ ai 
ou! MAE RENE: 2: 
Perret 
i Fi ie Lee 
eS a 
ea i we nad ee) 
* : Wee Pe: Nv a 
¥ ‘ , 
j 
Pad i 4 
ti , 
é A 1, {}) 
ite aie 
i 
} ! 
rn j 
: mye 
} DatA) 


Vw hat 
en 


Mite Ay) 





Vv 
ONTARIO’S LOVELY LAKES 


“Hurrah for the rapid that merrily, merrily, 
Shivers its arrows against us in play! 
Now we have entered it, cheerily, cheerily, 
Our spirits as light as its feathery spray.” 
—Charles Sangster 
NTARIO well might be named ‘The Land 
of the Gay Canoe”; for its labyrinth of 
waterways, placid lakes and rushing streams, 
resounds now to the carefree laugh of the man on 
pleasure bent even as in the old days it echoed the 
rollicking chansons of the gay voyageurs. 

The first white man to enter what is now Ontario 
was a Frenchman, Brulé, who lived among the Indians 
for more than twenty years, and then was boiled and 
eaten by them. But after the feast his outraged spirit 
remained to haunt them, the Hurons believed, and 
they set fire to their village and fled in terror. Ever 
afterward, however, the spirit of Brulé’s sister flew 
over the site—although some claim it was the spirit 
of his uncle. 

Brulé had gone with the Petite Nation in 16ro. 
Champlain in 1613 ascended the Ottawa as far as 
Allumette Island, on his way to the Nipissing tribe; 
but the Algonquin chief turned him back, refusing him 


guides and canoes, assuring him the Nipissings were 
119 


120 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


sorcerers and would kill them all with charms and 
magic. 

Champlain was greatly impressed by the beauty of 
the Ottawa River, which ends where the Lake-of-the- 
Two-Mountains joins the St. Lawrence. In the Long 
Sault his canoe “‘oversett’’ and he would have been 
drowned in a whirlpool had he not been wedged be- 
tween two rocks. ‘This stretch of furious rapids made 
less impression upon him, however, than upon Father 
Hennepin, who came later: 


“This dreadfull Encounter of Water that beats so 
furiously against these Rockes, continues about two 
Leagues, the Waters spurte about ten or twelve Yardes 
high, and appear like huge Snow-Balls, Hail, and 
Raine, with dreadfull Thunder, and a Noise like His- 
sing and Howling of Fierce Beastes: And I do certainely 
beleeve that if a man continues there a considerable 


‘Time, he wou’d become Deaf, without any Hope of 
Cure.” 


Years later this part of the Ottawa was the scene 
of a heroic sacrifice, one of the many valiant deeds 
in the history of Canada. The Iroquois had come in 
force to destroy the French at Montreal. Adam 
Daulac and sixteen comrades, here on the banks of 
the river, made a pact that so long as one of them re- 
mained alive the Iroquois should not pass. For a week 
these brave and loyal Frenchmen held out, one by one 
falling, and by the time the last had been killed the 
Iroquois were so greatly surprised and discouraged 


ONTARIO’S LOVELY LAKES DoT 


by this resistance that they turned home; and Mon- 
treal was saved. 

Ottawa, known as one of the loveliest of all capi- 
tals, is built upon a picturesque site where the Rideau 
River joins the Ottawa, and both form spectacular 
falls. The Indians called the Rideau the Singing 
River because the water trips down from the hills in 
a series of musical cascades. Its final great fall, into 
the Ottawa, was lovely indeed before the mills claimed 
it. When Champlain saw it in 1613, the water 
dropped from an outcropping ledge, so that Indians 
could pass behind the cataract “not wetting themselues 
except it bee from the spray that is thrown off.”. To 
the early voyageurs it appeared to be a beautiful, 
foam-flecked curtain, and so they named it Le Rideau. 

At the opposite end of the capital city are the 
Chaudiere Falls of the Ottawa. The water rushes 
down, between many rocky islets, into a basin where 
it seethes and boils and sends up clouds of rainbow- 
spray. The Indian name for this rock-basin was 
Asticou, ‘Kettle’; and the voyageurs merely changed 
this to their own tongue, Chaudiére. This cataract 
was held by the Indians in especial reverence, and they 
never passed without making a gift to the Spirit of 
the Water. When there were many of them they took 
up a collection, each man contributing tobacco or some 
equally valued treasure, and this was placed in their 
midst to be danced about and sung over, before it was 
cast, with a final chant, “into the middest of the 
cauldron’ where the water seethed most violently. 


122 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


Between these two falls, Rideau and Chaudiere, 
rises the city of Ottawa, with the Grand River of 
the voyageurs—the Ottawa—stretching at its feet, 
and across the river, in Quebec, the Laurentian Moun- 
tains running back in lavender and blue to the sky- 
line. The far-off range is cut by the Gatineau Valley 
with a river of silver-green winding down to join the 
Ottawa. 

Much higher in its course the Ottawa broadens 
into long, deep, and wholly lovely Lake Temiskam- 
ing, lying on the boundary between Ontario and Que- 
bec. ‘This was part of the great waterway used by 
voyageurs of the early days. Both explorers and fur- 
traders reached the Hudson Bay country through Lake 
Temiskaming, Lake Abitibi and its outlet to James 
Bay. Up this route, soon after its discovery, came 
a band of adventurous soldiers, led by d’Iberville, one 
of the most romantic figures in Canadian history. 
The Hudson’s Bay Company had a string of forts 
which the French decided to capture; and these d’Iber- 
ville and his band surprised, and secured, the French 
holding them until England, a few years later, sent 
across some of her war vessels to retake them. 

Lake Temiskaming today lies in the midst of a 
farming community. Pretty villages dot its shores, 
with here and there a lake-resort where the joys of 
woods and water are to be had. A comfortable 
steamer plies on the lake, and affords a scenic ride. 

Lake Abitibi, to the north, hemmed in by forests, 
lies in a great gold belt, which produces millions of 


ONTARIO’S LOVELY LAKES 123 


dollars’ worth of gold annually. South of it is a 
region rich in both silver and gold, the silver center- 
ing about Lake Cobalt, which was drained in order 
to get its precious ore. And Cobalt is near Tema- 
gami, the gateway to the Temagami Forest Reserve, 
with Lake Temagami sprawling, many-armed, none 
out its length. 

This unique lake, with an area of ninety square miles, 
has more than three thousand miles of coastline. Seen 
on a map, it looks surprisingly like an eagle, wings 
outstretched, dripping many feathers. The eagle’s 
claws are lakes, each feather in its outspread wings is 
a lake, its lake-beak is open to swallow a string of 
lakes; and feathering its body are nearly two thou- 
sand islands, forming countless channels and twisted 
waterways between them. Lakes are spattered every- 
where—long, winding lakes; short, crooked lakes; 
broad, island-dotted lakes with irregular shores, mere 
fingers of water reaching back into the deep woods. 
For all of this lake loveliness is set in an unbroken, 
primeval forest of pine and spruce and balsam. It 
is a region of limitless beauty, a waterwood which one 
scarcely can leave. 

To the canoeist, especially, Temagami presents un- 
ending delights; for the myriads of lakes are con- 
nected either by streams or by brief portages, and lead 
on and on, through deep and deeper forests, circling 
back, by countless routes, to the starting-point, or 
wandering off into far regions, even to distant Lake 
Huron. 


124 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


Well-marked trees show where portages begin. 
Here a hike through a stretch of forest, incense-sweet, 
the trail well-trodden, ends abruptly at another broad 
lake, hemmed in with spruce and pine. Should it be 
midday the lake lies sparkling blue; but should it be 
late afternoon, the slanting sun turns the water to 
purple, and the undergrowth along the shores begins 
to merge, contours softening. Far off there may be 
an island, its cool green depths and misty shadows 
vastly alluring. Irresistibly you paddle toward it. 
Later, as the twilight droops down and the forest be- 
yond wraps itself in a deep violet, you are on the 
island in a world of magic, listening to the soft lap 
of the water, the trill of a sleepy bird, or the whisper- 
ing of spruce-boughs, waiting for the stars to come 
out, or the moon, may be, to change night’s blue-black 
velvet to glowing silver. 


“The slender moon and one pale star, 
A rose leaf and a silver bee 

From some god’s garden blown afar, 
Go down the gold deep tranquilly.” 


A Hudson’s Bay post on Bear Island, in the heart 
of Lake Temagami, supplies canoes and camping out: 
fit, and even guides for those who thus are willing to 
lose most of the joy of canoeing. There are rustic 
camps, too, where the less hardy may sleep on real 
beds instead of glorying in the pungent-sweetness of 
spruce-boughs. 

The greater part of the forest is pinewood. This 


ONTARIO’S LOVELY LAKES 135 


alone is an allure, without the tangled waterways, 
for none can resist the spell of a pine-tree. 

After the liquid music of the Ojibwa names—Tema- 
gami, Obabika, Wakimika—names that belong to this 
primeval land of the Indian and are part of the magic 
to transport you to a world of the long-ago, it is 
distressing to find one of the loveliest lakes in this 
lovely region with the incongruous name of Lady 
Evelyn. The lake itself is exquisite, and the Lady 
Evelyn Falls are superb. Many of the lakes have 
story-fraught names, translated directly from the In- 
dian—Jumping Caribou, Hanging Stone, Red Squirrel, 
White Bear, Gull, Turtle, Rabbit. The wild animals 
that wander through this forest reserve are one of 
its great delights. 

Far south of Temagami, and connected with it by 
canoe-route, lies Lake Nipissing. In 1615 Champlain, 
searching for the China Sea, reached this lake by way 
of the Ottawa and Mattawa Rivers, and somehow 
steered his course through the maze of channels that 
form the French River, into Lake Huron, which the 
Indians called Attigouantan, but which he named La 
Mer Douce. His eager mind was as much interested 
in the “‘Sauvages” and their theology as in their coun- 
try. At one place he asked the Sagamo whether he 
or his ancestors had ever heard that God had come 
into the world. 


“Hee said that hee had not seene him: but that 
anciently there were fiue men who traveling toward the 


126 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


setting of the Sunne met with God, who demanded of 
them, Whither goe yee? They answer’d, Wee goe to 
seeke for our liuing. God said, You shal finde it heere: 
but they, not regarding, pass’d further: and then God 
with a stone touch’d two of them, who were turned 
into stones. And he said againe to the three others, 
Whither goe yee? They answer’d and hee replied as at 
firste: they yet passing further hee tooke two staues and 
touch’d therewith the two formost and transform’d 
them into staues. Asking the third man where hee 
wente, hee said, To seeke his liuing: wherevpon hee bade 
him tarrie, and he did soe, and God gaue him meate and 
hee did eate: and after hee had made goode cheere hee 
return’d among the other Sauvages and told them all this 
tale.” 


This Sagamo also told Champlain about one of 
his ancestors who had a great deal of tobacco. God 
came one day and asked him for his pipe. The In- 
dian gave it to Him, and God ‘“dranke much of it 
and then brake the pipe.’ It was the only one the 
Indian had, so God gave him another, and told him to 
carry it to his Sagamo “with warning to keep it well 
and then he shou’d wante nothing nor any of his.” 
But the Sagamo lost God’s pipe, and famine and dis- 
ease came upon them. ‘This,’ adds Champlain, 
‘‘seemeth to bee the cause why they say God is not 
very goode.”’ 

After Champlain had shown the way, the Lake 
Nipissing route became one of the two great high- 
ways for explorers and fur-traders—the other route 





Courtesy, Canadian National Kys. 


THE MUSKOKA LAKES 


This region is rich in Indian lore. Each island, almost, 


has its legend. 


*"SOYVT JVIID) 9Y} 0} 9}NOI Sty} PataAoostp ‘euIYy.) 10F Buryoivss ‘ureydweyD 
ONISSIUIN ANVI TOULLOAVAY 


9Y19D uUDIpDUD ‘€S9q4Ano 
LIDd tp 


Oe ha 


iin 








; 
id 


ONTARIO’S LOVELY LAKES ry 


going north through Lake Temiskaming, on to Hudson 
Bay. 

Lake Nipissing, called by the Indians the “Big 
Water,” is now a popular summering-place. From the 
city of North Bay, a progressive and picturesque town 
on the shore of the lake, canoe-routes and motor- 
roads radiate in all directions. Both the Nipissing 
region and that of French River, the outlet of the lake, 
are popular with sportsmen because of the abundance 
of fish and game—trout, bass, maskinonge, pike; wild 
geese, ducks, and partridge; deer and moose. ‘The 
French River is made up of countless winding chan- 
nels, a maze that delights the canoeist. There is much 
scenic beauty here, too, with foam-white rapids and 
long stretches of lake-smooth water where the tree- 
fringe reflects itself in liquid shadows. 

Algonquin Park, set aside by the Province of On- 
tario as a game and forest reserve, contains three 
thousand square miles of exquisite loveliness. Count- 
less lakes lie amid such primeval forests as would 
have delighted the heart of Hiawatha. ‘The lakes 
are connected by streams or well-beaten portages, and 
the canoeist has the rare joy of winding in and out 
of a water labyrinth so far off in the wilderness that 
no sound reaches him but the dip of his paddle, or 
the eerie music of whispering trees. Then suddenly 
comes a choral from the forest—the chattering of 
chipmunks, the laughing songs of bluejays, a loon’s 
call, and over and above it all the liquid notes of a 
thrush. A deer comes down to the edge of the lake 


128 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


to drink; a moose swims just ahead, striking across 
to a cool fern-glade beneath the pines on the farther 
shore; a bear shambles down the far trail, squirrels 
scampering up trees to avoid him. Much of the joy 
of Algonquin Park is centered in its wild creatures, 
which are beginning to know that here they have a 
haven. But there is great joy, too, in the wild beauty 
of the lakes and the lovely, fragrant forests. 

For one who wishes to get far off into the wilder- 
ness, where there are few roads, but moose-trails may 
be followed, and canoe-ways without end, Algonquin 
Park makes an ideal vacation-place. It has a magic 
of its own, a spiritual balm born of the sheer beauty 
of these wilds, calling back again and again those who 
once have been there. | 

The entire region south of Algonquin Park is made 
up of innumerable lakes, winding streams, many farms, 
and picturesque villages, with occasional large and 
important cities. 

Back of Georgian Bay—the great arm of Lake 
Huron—are the Muskoka Lakes, a noted resort in 
the Highlands of Ontario. There is plenty of life 
at Muskoka. Hotels and summer homes and pretty 
cottages are everywhere. Scarcely a wooded point 
can be seen without its pink-roofed villa among the 
trees. The water is gay with canoes, motorboats and 
even steamers. Sailing, swimming, canoeing and golf- 
ing are the pastimes here; and fishing, of course. 
Muskoka does much to live up to its Indian name, 
which means “‘Clear Sky”; for the sky is ever a smil- 


ONTARIO’S LOVELY LAKES 129 


ing blue, and it domes over sparkling lakes and pine- 
clad hills. 

A legend of the Ojibwas claims that in the long 
ago, when their tribe was at war with the Crees, there 
was an Ojibwa brave, fleeter than the deer, keener 
than the eagle, whose name was Swifter-than-Light- 
ning. This Ojibwa loved the daughter of an enemy, 
a Cree chief, and Beautiful-Bluebird-which-Sings would 
meet him secretly in the forest. But this maiden had 
an unwelcome Cree suitor who spied upon her. When 
he saw her with the Ojibwa brave he placed his swift- 
est arrows in his bow; but they would not shoot, they 
fell like flint to the ground. The Cree then hastened 
away to the medicine-man, the maker of magic, and 
he came with a powerful charm and turned the Cree 
maiden into a green cedar, and the Ojibwa brave into 
a black grouse. And this occurred, the Ojibwas say, 
on the shores of Muskoka Lake. 

Among the winding streams in this region is Shadow 
River, the water so quiet and so clear that it reflects 
in minutest detail every leaf and branch of the trees 
that almost arch overhead. Indians will not go on 
this river at the ghost-hour, twilight or dawn, for 
they believe that at the bottom of the water there is 
a spirit who is free only at this hour, and he watches 
the shadows in the river and reaches up and grabs 
any Indians that please him. 

The Lake of Bays district is another of the gay 
resorts, with a far-famed Bigwin Inn to please the 
luxury-lover, and many golf courses in ideal surround- 


130 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


ings to lure the devotee of the links. This, also, lies 
in the Highlands of Ontario, in the midst of pine and 
birch forests. Villages and stray cottages dot the 
shores of the lake; steamers ply upon its waters, and 
there are lilting sails and a constant hum of motor- 
boats. The Lake of Bays appeals to those who like 
to vary fishing and boating with golf, tennis, dancing 
and a jolly social life. 

Farther south are the Kawartha Lakes, still an- 
other attractive group, where vacationists delight to 
go. Cottages are scattered between summer-resorts. 
Sailboats and canoes and motorboats crowd the lakes. 
The fine sandy beaches and the picturesque rocky 
points are gay with pleasure-seekers. And anglers 
are ever bent upon their favorite sport. 

To the west are Lake Simcoe and Lake Couchich- 
ing, with outlet to Georgian Bay through the pictur- 
esque Severn River. ‘The shores of both these lakes 
are dotted with cottages, and many summer-resorts 
have sprung up about the tempting beaches. 

The Rideau Lakes district, another favorite region, 
and literally blue with water, was believed by the In- 
dians to have been formed of the tears of a love-sick 
maiden. When her beloved one was killed she melted 
away to tears, and the gods were good and preserved 
them in these beautiful lakes. There are many at- 
tractive summer-resorts in this district, and the scores 
of lakes afford all the water-sports. 

Directly to the south are the Thousand Islands of 
the St. Lawrence. ‘These lie where Lake Ontario has 


ONTARIO’S LOVELY LAKES 131 


narrowed to the St. Lawrence River. Some of the 
islands are so small, mere rocks and slanting trees, 
that their natural beauty has been unmarred. On 
the larger islands are camps and cottages, hidden 
among the trees; and many have been transformed 
into luxurious estates, with beautiful homes and land- 
scaped gardens. One of Canada’s National Parks, 
the St. Lawrence Islands, is here, assuring the public 
a recreation-ground in the midst of this world of 
woods and water. 

The Iroquois name for the lowest of the Great 
Lakes was Skanandario. ‘This, wrote an early ex- 
plorer, meant “Beautiful Water,” and then added that 
in winter ‘‘outrageous Windes do blow.”’ Champlain 
called it Lake St. Louis; but the Iroquois name has 
persisted as Ontario. ‘The lake is nearly two hun- 
dred miles long and from thirty to seventy miles broad, 
a veritable inland sea; and when its “outrageous 
Windes do blow” and the waves pile high, changing 
in color from the blue-green of the sea to a pale 
crystal-emerald as they break, the water is truly mag- 
nificent. 

Where the commercially important city of Kingston 
now stands, on an eminence overlooking the lake, Fort 
Frontenac was established in 1673 by Governor 
Frontenac, and placed in the care of La Salle. But 
La Salle was an explorer; sitting at home in a fort 
pleased him not at all; and so the Iroquois found no 
difficulty in falling upon the little settlement and de- 
stroying it. A few years later Frontenac was rebuilt; 


132 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


but it grew to a city of real importance only after 
the Tories, at the end of the American Revolution, 
settled there, changing the name of the town to 
Kingston. 

This north shore of Lake Ontario is thickly settled, 
one of the most populous agricultural districts of the 
province being here. Fruit orchards and tobacco fields 
run back between miscellaneous farms. And on this 
north shore, spreading upward from a splendid harbor, 
is the city of Toronto, the capital of Ontario, and 
the second largest city in Canada. 

In 1678 a little Indian village was where Toraaes 
now stands, and Father Hennepin’s canoes, tossed 
about on the lake, hastened there for shelter and for 
food. He says: ‘‘We barter’d some Indian Corne 
with the Iroquese, who could not sufficiently admire 
us.” Not only the strange white men were amazing 
to the Indians, but their undreamed-of clothing; and 
above all, what most delighted the ‘‘Iroquese,”’ were 
the buttons. | 

From the earliest times the Iroquois village of 
Toronto clustered about the lake; but the present city 
was not actually founded until after the American 
Revolution when Tories from the United States set- 
tled there in 1793 and named their new town York. 
Nearly a half-century later this name was changed 
again to the early Indian name, Toronto, which means 
“Place of Meeting.” 

Today a more delightful Place of Meeting scarcely 
could be found. The city climbs back gradually from 


ONTARIO’S LOVELY LAKES 133 


the lake-shore into the hills. The business section, 
with towering skyscrapers and teeming activities, is as 
wide-awake and hustling as the most modern metrop- 
olis; the residential section is a place of lovely homes 
and spacious gardens. 

At the extreme western end of Lake Ontario, where 
ragged points reach out and terraces rise upward 
from the water, the city of Hamilton spreads its long, 
straight, tree-lovely streets between bay and mountain. 
Hamilton is one of the largest cities in Canada, and 
one of the leading manufacturing centers. From its 
“mountain,” rising six hundred or more feet back of 
the town, a splendid view is to be had out over the 
rippling water of the bay and the rougher water of the 
lake. 

Directly across the lake from Toronto the Niagara 
River comes pouring down from Lake Erie into Lake 
Ontario, forming, midway, the scenic Niagara Falls, 
with its great cauldron where the water 


‘cc 


. . - . bubbles and seethes and hisses and roars, 
As when fire is with water commixed and contending, 
And the spray of its wrath to the welkin uproars, 
And flood after flood hurries on, never ending.” 


“T cannot conceive,’ wrote Father Hennepin, the 
first white man to publish a description of the won- 
derful cataract, ‘“‘how it came to pass that four greate 
Lakes shou’d emptie themselves one into another, and 
then all centre and discharge themselves at this pro- 
digious Frightfull Fall and yet not drowne a goode 


134 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


part of America. . . . When one stands neare the 
Fall, and lookes down into this most Dreadfull Gulphe, 
one is seized with Horrow, and the Heade turns 
rounde.”’ 

The first sight of the roaring cataract impressed 
him as ‘‘a vast and prodigious Cadence of Water which 
falls down after a surprising and astonishing man- 
ner. ... The Waters which fall from this Precipice 
do foam and boyl after the most hideous manner 
imaginable, making an outrageous Noise, more ter- 
rible than that of Thunder.”’ 

The name, Niagara, is the Iroquois word meaning 
‘Thundering Water.” Here, the Indians believed, 
dwelt the Great Spirit, and they made long pilgrimages 
in order to cast into the seething water some choice 
treasure. Once a year they gave the Great Spirit a 
bride, the fairest maiden of their tribe being chosen 
from among the many eager for this great honor. 
Dressed all in white, standing upright in a white canoe 
banked with flowers, the maiden rode gaily over the 
cataract, to be dashed to pieces on the rocks in the 
tormented waters below. 

So many thousands visit Niagara Falls every year 
that they are now too well known to need describing. 
On both the American and Canadian sides their beauty 
is protected for future generations, by Prospect Park 
on the New York side and the lovely Victoria Park 
in Ontario. Many falls are higher than Niagara, 
many are broader, yet there is a lure about the ‘““Thun- 
dering Water”’ that brings increasing thousands every 


ONTARIO’S LOVELY LAKES 135 


year to see its marvels. As enthralling as the cataract 
and its enveloping clouds of spray are the rapids 
above and the scenic gorge below. ‘‘The two Brinkes 
of it are so prodigious high that it would make one 
tremble to look steadily upon the Water, rolling with 
a Rapidity not to be imagin’d.”’ Words would in- 
deed fail Father Hennepin could he see the gorge 
today with aeroplanes flying overhead, carrying sight- 
seers, enabling visitors to obtain veritable bird’s-eye 
views of the ‘‘prodigious Dreadfull Gulphe.”’ 

Lake Erie is delightfully described by an Ontario 
poet as, 


“A dash of yellow sand, 

Wind-scattered and sun-tanned; 

Some waves that curl and cream along the margin of 
the strand; 

And, creeping close to these, 

Long shores that lounge at ease, 

Old Erie rocks and ripples to a fresh sou’western 
breeze.” 


This lake has had its important place in Canadian 
history since the year 1670, when two Sulpician friars, 
Dollier and Galinée, erected a cross on its northern 
shore and took possession of the surrounding coun- 
try for the King of France. In 1922 the Canadian 
Government marked this spot, near Port Dover, by a 
cross which may be seen far out over the lake. 

Dollier and Galinée had been sent to the Indians 
in the “far West.’ With them was La Salle, on an 


136 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


exploring expedition. But at a little village where 
Hamilton now stands they met Jolliet, returning with 
much to tell about the great western country; and La 
Salle then turned south, intending to pass through the 
land of the Senecas to the Ohio and so, he believed, 
reach the Vermilion Sea—the Gulf of California— 
which he felt confident washed the shores of China. 
The two Sulpicians continued west, and came upon 
Lake Erie in the late fall of 1669. 

The country seemed to them an “earthly Paradise.” 
Galinée writes that “‘there is assuredly no more beau- 
tiful region in all of Canada.” But there were storms 
upon the lake-coast, so they chose a wintering-place 
where Black Creek and Lynn River come together, 
and there they built a combined cabin, chapel, store- 
house and fort. Iroquois, coming for the plentiful 
beaver, visited them, helped them gather baskets of 
chestnuts and walnuts in the fall, taught them how 
to catch fish in the winter. The good friars said 
mass regularly three times a week; and in the spring 
they erected their cross on the shore of Lake Erie, 
and soon afterward continued their journey toward 
the land of the Pottawattomis. 

But the Indian devil-gods, they believed, were 
against them. For a Lake Erie storm blew their 
canoes upon Pointe Pelée, and the winds and the 
waves there swept away their altar service. How 
could they convert the heathens without an altar 
service? Their mission to the Pottawattomis was 
abruptly ended. Nothing remained but to return to 


ONTARIO’S LOVELY LAKES 137 


Montreal. But instead of retracing their steps they 
chose the more interesting route by way of Lake 
Huron and Lake Nipissing. Thus they ascended the 
Detroit River, passed through Lake St. Clair and the 
St. Clair River; and at one place they saw upon the 
bank the cause of all their troubles—a huge stone, 
an idol of the Indians, painted red, with many gifts 
lying at its feet. This, the Sulpicians knew at once, 
was a Demon who wanted no missions there, so he 
had sent the wind to blow away their altar service 
and had bidden all game keep away from the shores, 
so they might starve. With righteous wrath the good 
friars landed and smashed the stone, and threw the 
pieces into the deepest water. “God rewarded us im- 
mediately for this good action,” writes Galinée, “for 
we killed a roebuck and a bear that very day.” 

Near Lake Erie, on the bank of Niagara River, 
La Salle built his Griffon, which sailed so proudly out 
upon the lake in 1679, five cannon booming a joyous 
salvo, sails bellowing, the crew chanting a Te Deum, 
canoes of amazed Senecas swarming round. La Salle 
and Hennepin were on board; and as the Griffon 
passed through Detroit River, on her westward way, 
Hennepin named the marshy little lake to which they 
came, Sainte Claire, because it was the day of that 
saint. The Iroquois had called it Otsiketa. 

On through the full length of Lake Huron the 
proud ship swept, battling terrific storms, and entered 
Lake Michigan. There La Salle anchored at an island 
and loaded the Griffon with a cargo of valuable furs 


138 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


which were waiting for him. He and Hennepin and 
another Recollet friar remained, for they had work 
to do, but the ship was promptly started back to 
Niagara with its rich cargo. No one ever saw it 
again. It may have been robbed and scuttled; it may 
have gone down in a storm. Mariners on the Great 
Lakes, however, claim that even now, at the small 
hours of morning, when only starlight is shining, the 
Griffon may be seen, a ghost-ship battling the waves, 
its phantom-crew scurrying about the dripping decks. 

On the north shore of Lake Erie, where Pointe 
aux Pins reaches its pine-clad peninsula into the lake, 
Ontario has set aside about eight square miles as the 
Rondeau Park. This is a favorite camping-place. 

Point Pelee, the southernmost point of Canada, 
reaching far out into Lake Erie, is included in the 
Canadian National Parks as a place of geographic 
and historic interest and especially as a bird reserve, 
for here the migrating birds have learned to linger. 

Lake Huron was known to the Indians as Kareg- 
nondi. It is frequently swept by storms as great as 
those of the ocean, and the waves that curl up and 
break are not like the salt waves of the sea, but have 
a crystal, translucent brilliance that makes them gleam 
like emerald. 

The most noted feature of Lake Huron is Georgian 
Bay, which extends far back into the Ontario shore. 
The Thirty Thousand Islands of this bay are actually 
about fifty thousand in number. This is the fabled 
land of Kitchi Kewana, who was to the Ojibwas what 


ONTARIO’S LOVELY LAKES 139 


Glooscap was to the Micmacs. Each island, almost, 
has its legend, all of them centering about this demi- 
god, who created the islands for his pleasure, brought 
here the birds to sing for him, the beavers to work 
for him, and the squirrels and rabbits to play with 
him. His favorite haunt was on Beausoleil Island, 
where he formed two lovely lakes, which were eyes to 
watch the island while he was journeying elsewhere. 
A few miles away a mound-shaped island, known as 
the Giant’s Tomb, was his burial-place. 

Even Champlain, so fond of scattering broadcast 
the names of his saints, could think of nothing more 
suitable for this lovely stretch of island-dotted water, 
when he came upon it in 1615, than the name the 
Indians gave it, Manitou, ‘“The Lake of the Great 
Spirit.’ This the poetic French of the early days 
called it; but the English broke the Indian charm that 
lay upon it by changing its name to prosaic Georgian 
Bay. 

By whatever name it may be known, this water- 
stretch is all poetry. The fifty thousand islands, 
densely wooded, are like emerald gems, rimmed with 
pearl-white beaches, and set in aquamarine, where the 
water sparkles sea-blue. Some of the islets are mere 
bits of pale-gray rock, wave-eaten and fantastic, ris- 
ing out of the water like strange monsters of the deep. 
These are the islands that frighten and yet fascinate 
the Indians, and about which they have woven their 
many legends. 

The canoeist or the man with the motorboat finds 


140 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


unending delight in winding in and out of the chan- 
nels formed by the countless islands. There are hotels 
and summer cottages scattered about; there are thou- 
sands of islands that rarely are visited; and it is 
claimed that there are some which even the govern- 
ment has not charted and no white man has ever set 
foot upon. The Land of Kitchi Kewana calls to 
the adventure-lover to come and explore, to see what 
the demigod yet may have, hidden away on the un- 
known islands. 

Both Georgian Bay and the western coast of Sau- 
geen Peninsula, which partly encloses the bay, are 
famous fishing-grounds. Whitefish, lake-trout, pick- 
erel, sturgeon, and the fighting maskinonge afford rare 
sport for the rod enthusiast. Nor is this angling de- 
light confined solely to the open-water season. 


“During the Winter, we broke Holes in the Ice of 
the Lake Huron and by means of severall large Stones 
sunk our Nettes sometimes twentie sometimes twentie- 
five Fathome under Water to catch Fish, which we did 
in greate Abundance. We tooke Salmon-Trouts, which 
often weigh’d from fortie to fiftie Poundes. These 
made our Indian Wheate go downe the better.” 


Another picturesque arm of Lake Huron has the 
unoriginal name of North Channel; but it, too, is a 
beautiful stretch of water, with countless islands scat- 
tered along its mainland coast and large and small 
islands shutting it in from the Jake. The largest of 


ONTARIO’S LOVELY LAKES 141 


these is Manitoulin, “The Island of the Great Spirit,”’ 
eighty miles long, cut up with coves and bays reach- 
ing deeply inland, and dotted with lakes. Indian 
Reservations on this island add to its interest; and 
there are many summer-resorts and fishing villages. 

When the adventure-loving Radisson was visiting 
his friends the Ottawas here in 1658, word came that 
the merciless Iroquois were lurking round. Radisson 
organized a party of Ottawa braves, and set off 
eagerly to rout the enemy. A few of his braves were 
killed in the skirmish, but those who returned vic- 
toriously brought with them eight dead Iroquois and 
three prisoners. ‘The dead were boiled and eaten at 
a great feast of joy, and the living were roasted over 
a slow fire, ‘‘to comfort the desolate Ottawas’’ whose 
relatives had been killed. 

The Mississauga Forest Reserve extends inland 
from the North Channel of Lake Huron, sloping 
upward to the height-of-land. ‘This is a lake-sprinkled 
wilderness, water-blue, with countless lakes lying in 
the forests and scores of streams tumbling down to 
the Channel with their rushing hill-water. A rail- 
road skirts the Reserve on the north and on the south, 
affording easy access to a region that is utterly wild 
and entirely lovely. Canoe-trails follow twisting lakes 
and quiet and scurrying streams, with many alluring 
bypaths wandering off into deep and ever deeper 
forests. 

At the west end of North Channel, beyond a maze 
of islands, is St. Mary’s River, bringing the water 


142 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


from Lake Superior, in a tortuous route, to Lake 
Huron; and half-way down the river’s course are the 
mile-long rapids known as Sault Sainte Marie. “This 
Fall,” wrote the delightful Hennepin in 1682, “is a 
Precipice full of Rockes, over which the Water of 
the upper Lake, which flows thither in great Abun- 
dance, casts itself with a most violent Impetuositie. 
Notwithstanding which a Canou may go up it on 
one side, provided the People in it row Vigorouslie.”’ 

More than a century later the Hudson’s Bay Com- 
pany constructed a canal, on the Canadian side, 
through which their small ships might pass. Still an- 
other century later and there were canals on both 
the American and the Canadian side large enough to 
accommodate ocean liners. Even today, however, one 
may have the thrill of shooting the rapids in an In- 
dian canoe, guided by an Indian; although it is more 
than doubtful whether the guide would, or could, ‘‘row 
Vigorouslie”’ up them. 

In 1671, a hill overlooking the Sault Ste. Marie was 
the scene of one of the most spectacular gatherings 
of white men and Indians that ever occurred. The 
highest chiefs of fourteen Indian tribes—Pottawat- 
tomis, Sacs, Winnebagos, Miamis, Crees, Oyibwas, 
Nipissings and others—came in their various and 
colorful regalia, accompanied by countless lesser chiefs. 
Four Jesuits were present. Jolliet was there, and 
many French traders and interpreters. 

The gathering had been called by the French, as 
the simplest way—and certainly the most clever way 














? . 3 é 
Courtesy, Canadian National Rys. 


THE WINNIPEG RIVER, AT MINAKI 
The Ojibwas found this region so entrancing they named it 
“Beautiful Country.” 


‘sAepung uo Ajnvaq pue skep-yaam uo Ajzorsjoa]a Ajddns Aayy, 
WVITIM LYOd YVAN ‘STIVA VYALVAVM AHL 





ONTARIO’S LOVELY LAKES 143 


—to take peaceful possession of all this land. First 
a cross was erected, and then there followed one of 
the strangest religious ceremonies in Catholic history. 
It was as spectacular as the good Jesuits, knowing 
the Indians and their love of show, possibly could 
make it. Psalm-chanting was explosively interspersed 
with shouts of Vive le Roi/ and solemn Te Deums 
were startlingly peppered with fusillades of firearms. 
A white man would have found this ceremony wholly 
amazing; to the Indians it was astounding and stu- 
pendous. And added to it were the speeches, highly 
colored by the interpreters, about the mightiness of 
the French King, and his soldiers not bothering to 
count scalps but measuring their victories by the rivers 
of blood which flowed; and added to all this, were the 
rich vestments of the priests, and the purposely the- 
atrical attitude of the fur-traders. The Indians were 
utterly overwhelmed. At the end of the bizarre cere- 
mony they joined, wholly dazed with the magnificence 
of it all, in the final shout of Vive le Roi! 

Lake Superior, the highest and. largest of the Great 
Lakes, was described to Champlain in 1603 when he 
was seeking information from the Indians as to the 
water-route to China. They told him that the eastern 
tip of the “Big Sea Water” was “the farthest place 
where themselues had bene, nor had knowne any Man 
that had seene the end thereof ... in the Summer 
the Sunne doth sett to the North of the say’d Lake, 
and in the Winter it setteth as it were in the middest 
thereof.’ Hennepin declared, when he saw Lake Su- 


144 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


perior in 1682, that it “resembles the Ocean, having 
neither Bottom nor Banks.”’ 

In many ways Lake Superior is the most beautiful 
of the five Great Lakes. The Canadian shore is strik- 
ingly picturesque, with high, bold cliffs, often garishly 
colored, the bright sun and the reflection from the 
blue water enhancing their brilliance. High above 
the gay-tinted rocks, sometimes hundreds of feet, are 
dark-green trees, while below is the cobalt-blue of the 
lake. Many of the cliffs, ravaged by fire, stand bare 
and desolate, as striking as those that are crowded 
with trees. The water that laps against the rocks, 
or storms in when the winds rage, is crystal-clear and 
is intensely cold even in midsummer. 

High and rugged islands are scattered along the 
northern coast, Michipicoten being the largest at the 
eastern end. Not far from Michipicoten is the ‘Isle 
of Yellow Sand’’ which Alexander Henry the Elder 
searched in 1771 for the gold of the Indian legends. 
The Ojibwas told him that some of their ancestors 
had discovered the island and found its sands to be 
pure gold-dust. They filled their baskets with the 
pretty, shining metal and started to paddle away, when 
a terrible ogre, sixty feet high, stalked out into the 
water and thundered at them to return what they 
had stolen. This, in great terror, they did, in spite 
of huge serpents that now rushed out of the forest 
hissing fire. No Indian ever dared go near the island 
again, for fear of this monster. Henry, searching 
the island diligently, failed to find either the serpents 


ONTARIO’S LOVELY LAKES 145 


or the ogre, nor yet the gold-dust; but he did report 
ferocious hawks that swooped into his face, and deer 
with enormous antlers. 

St. Ignace Island is the largest of a chain of lovely 
islands that all but enclose Nipigon Bay, where the 
famous Nipigon River has outlet. 

While salmon-trout of prodigious size, if one may 
believe the fishermen, are caught in Lake Superior, 
speckled-trout that break the world’s record come 
from the clear cool depths of Nipigon River, the 
pride of the region having weighed fourteen and a 
half pounds. Nipigon, with its scurrying water, its 
lingering pools, its broad lake-stretches, is a veritable 
paradise for anglers. And yet it is merely the front 
door to a region vastly more interesting, vastly more 
alluring, centering about Lake Nipigon, which lies in 
the heart of the Nipigon Forest Reserve. 

The Crees called Lake Nipigon ‘“God’s Bowl.” 
And it lies like a great blue bowl, with deeply fluted 
edges, shut in by wooded hills and richly colored 
cliffs. All about it is the wilderness, and scattered 
over its surface are tree-crowded islands, high, green, 
and entrancingly lovely. The shores run back in deep 
and ragged bays, cliffs rising about them, the rocks 
splashed with gray and bronze and burnt vermilion. 
Many lakes lie in the hills, and clear, cold streams 
come pouring down from them in foam-white rapids, 
cutting their way through forests, to fall into lovely 
Lake Nipigon. 

The river, in its forty-mile course from Lake Nipi- 


146 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


gon to Nipigon Bay and Lake Superior, is one mad 
cataract after another, interspersed with swirling 
rapids which bring a thrill merely to watch them, and 
many pools where the water glides beside a tower- 
ing cliff or stops to linger beneath a stretch of droop- 
ing spruce-trees. Virgin Falls, at the head of the 
river, is its most spectacular cataract, but there are 
others equally as picturesque. 

One railway—passing the strangely beautiful Long 
Lac, which stretches for fifty miles through a narrow 
and winding valley—gives entrance to the Nipigon 
region at Orient, on the lake; another railroad has 
its gateway at Nipigon, the interesting point where 
river and bay meet. 

All of the north shore of Lake Superior is the 
land of Naniboujou, the demigod who always is hun-. 
gry and never quite can catch up with his food. Nani- 
boujou, like Raven in the legends of the far North- 
west, travels with his grandmother. One day, being 
very hungry, he was looking closely into the clear 
water for fish as he ran along the bank, and sud- 
denly he saw clusters of rich red berries down below. 
He dived quickly—and found only rocks, for it was 
merely a reflection; but as he came up he saw the real 
berries on a bush edging a cliff above. He scaled the 
cliff nimbly, and as he reached the top, old North 
Wind, Keewatin, came howling along and shook the 
bushes. Before Naniboujou could get the berries they 
had fallen to the water. Down again he went; and 


just as he reached the bank, the fishes he had been 


ONTARIO’S LOVELY LAKES 147 


watching for, grabbed the berries and made off with 
them. 

So Naniboujou hurried on, still very hungry, to 
where his grandmother had built a fire. He found 
her wading in the river trying to catch a duck. Nani- 
boujou lifted up a stone and found a beetle beneath 
it; this he carried to the duck, and when it swam up 
to eat the beetle Naniboujou caught it. Soon the duck 
was roasting over the fire and Naniboujou sat snif- 
fing the delicious odor. But a pack of wolves far off 
smelled it, too, and said one to another, ‘“‘Naniboujou 
is roasting duck. Let us go feast.” And they ran 
up and devoured the duck and sat down beside the 
fire to warm themselves; and poor Naniboujou and 
his grandmother had to go still farther to seek for 
something to eat. | 

The long peninsula that shuts in Thunder Bay and 
terminates in Thunder Cape is a favorite haunt of 
Naniboujou, the Crees and the Ojibwas claim, the 
frequent thundering there being the voice of the Above 
People communicating with him. Some say that the 
cape itself is the body of Naniboujou, stretched out 
at rest, the Sleeping Giant. When Alexander Henry 
was here in 1767 he found on projecting ledges of 
rock “a quantity of tobacco, rotting in the rain; to- 
gether with kettles, broken guns, and a variety of 
other articles. The spirit of Naniboujou, the Great 
Hare, is supposed to make this his constant residence; 
and here to preside over the lake and over the Indians, 
in their navigation and fishing.’ Naniboujou was not 


148 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


the Great Hare, but one of his two brothers. Great 
Hare went north, to Always-winter-land, and figures 
in the legends of that region; while the other brother 
reigns over the Hereafter. 

Thunder Cape is a striking landmark in Lake Su- 
perior, its towering mass of basalt rising boldly above 
the lake for thirteen hundred feet, only a fringe of 
trees at its base. It is the tip of a long peninsula 
which curves back, in soft hills, mist often drifting 
about them, to the head of Thunder Bay. On the 
other side, Black Bay reaches into the land, almost 
to Nipigon. 

Immediately east of Thunder Cape is Silver Islet, 
which in only a few years produced nearly four mil- 
lion dollars’ worth of treasure; and then the jealous 
Naniboujou sent the waters of the lake to drown the 
mine. At the mouth of Thunder Bay is Pie Island, 
far more beautiful than its name, with stern cliffs, 
fluted columns of basalt, and bold hills, falling away 
on the south side to form a crescent cove of sheer 
loveliness. 

Thunder Bay’s greatest interest lies in its Twin 
Cities, Port Arthur and Fort William, the golden gate- 
way through which vast quantities of prairie grain 
pour for reshipment to the hungry East. 

In 1678 Sieur de L’hut—which America has chante 
to Duluth—established a trading-post at the mouth 
of the Kaministiquia River, where Fort William now 
stands; and in later years as the cabin fell into ruins 
it was used by occasional traders and explorers. In 


ONTARIO’S LOVELY LAKES 149 


1801 the Hudson’s Bay Company, realizing the im- 
portance of the location as the gateway to all the 
great Northwest, established one of its posts there. 
It then became a bone of contention between the Hud- 
son’s Bay and its rival, the North-West Company, 
and not until these two merged twenty years later was 
there actual peace. These were the most colorful days 
of the old fort, when it stood at the edge of civili- 
zation. Down the Kaministiquia came brigades of 
canoes laden with furs, and here they lingered for 
a brief space while the voyageurs made merry and 
over their cups told the tales of their adventures to 
those going in the opposite direction to spend weeks 
or months in the wilds. 

In 1870 Colonel Wolseley passed this way with his 
army, on a famous march to Fort Garry to quell the 
Red River Rebellion. Port Arthur then came into 
being, and that was the beginning of Fort William’s 
remarkable growth that has made it and its twin city 
the greatest grain center in the world. Their floods 
of prairie gold are not their only attractions, however, 
for both cities offer summertime recreations for the 
visitor—boating, fishing, and especially motoring. 

A short distance from Fort William are the Kaka- 
beka Falls of the Kaministiquia River—a broad 
cataract, with an immense volume of water, and higher 
than Niagara. These falls are turned on and off at 
will, supplying electricity on week-days and beauty on 
Sundays. And when their full volume of water is 
roaring over the precipice they are exquisite. The 


150 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


smooth and glistening pale-green that curves over the 
edge changes at once to fluffy curtains of foam, out- 
blown by the wind, shot with green in their upper 
reaches and hidden below in clouds of rainbow-spray. 

Mount MacKay, near Fort William, towers straight 
upward for sixteen hundred feet, and is crowned, like 
Thunder Cape, with stark, bare rock. From a dis- 
tance it appears to be unscalable, but there is an easy 
trail, and it is well worth climbing for the superb pano- 
ramic view of the Twin Cities, of Thunder Bay, of the 
rugged Cape, and of the rolling blue of Lake Superior, 
lost in purple at the horizon, where the sky comes down 
to rest in Mitchi Gama, Hiawatha’s “Big Sea Water.” 

Pigeon River, farther south, forms part of the in- 
ternational boundary, which runs westward through a 
chain of delightful lakes, and on through Rainy Lake 
and Rainy River, to the Lake of the Woods. In the 
midst of a wilderness so plentifully sprinkled with 
lakes that it seems almost wholly water, but actually 
has vast tracts of forest, is Quetico Provincial Park, 
a forest and game reserve in the heart of the Rainy 
River district. 

Quetico is one of the loveliest regions in Canada. 
The beauty of the grand old forest trees is duplicated 
in unrippled lakes; masses of wild-flowers form drifts 
of color through the forests and run down to the water 
to add splashes of pink and yellow and crimson to 
the green tree-reflections below; scurrying streams go 
singing by from pool to pool; moose, bear, deer, foxes 
and the many smaller animals pad along the trails, 


ONTARIO’S LOVELY LAKES 151 


or stop to drink in quiet lakes. The primeval loveli- 
ness of Quetico is many times enhanced in the early 
morning or the late evening when reflections are at 
their best and all the beauty of woods, every detail 
of shaggy tree or sleepy flower, is duplicated in a 
shadow-world below. 


“The tiny fern-leaf, bending 

Upon the brink, its green reflection greets, 
And kisses soft the shadow that it meets 
With touch so fine 

The border line 

The keenest vision can’t define ; 

So perfect is the blending.” 


Definite canoe-routes are mapped out among the 
many lakes, and trails through the deep pine and bal- 
sam woods. ‘These are for the timid; the man to 
whom the forest talks in its own language likes to 
wander off where it beckons, to drift on the lakes 
that call, or paddle up the streams that lead off into 
the unmapped wilds. 

The railroad station at Quetico, on the long, wind- 
ing, lovely Lake Windigoostiawan, is the main en- 
trance to this land so filled with wild beauty and 
picturesque animal life. The camera enthusiast finds 
wonderful opportunities for photographs. A moose 
swimming a lake is a common picture; and a rare 
one is a bear fishing in a stream, slapping his paw 
into the water to pounce upon an unwary fish. 


Ng2 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


From Quetico a hardy canoeist can paddle on and 
on, in a many days’ trip, into Rainy Lake, following 
part of the route used by the earliest explorers. The 
railroad goes between these two points as the crow 
flies, while the water-route wanders far afield, twist- 
ing and curving through lake and stream, hemmed 
in always by pine and spruce and tamarack forests. 

Rainy Lake is more than forty miles long, and is 
so irregular in outline that it varies in width from 
one to forty miles. ‘This gives it many finger-shaped 
bays, many deep-curved inlets, many lovely points ex- 
tending for miles out into the water. There are nearly 
three hundred islands in the main lake, all wooded 
and all reflecting their shaggy green trees in the clear 
water; and on every side there are countless other 
lakes lying scattered about in the wilderness and con- 
nected by streams or portages. Merely to read the 
canoe-route from Rainy Lake to Lake of the Woods 
gives one the paddle-fever, the longing to be up and 
off, into the far, deep woods: | 

“Starting at Fort Frances, easily reached by rail- 
road, head your canoe north to Northwest Bay; 
portage to Lake Despair’ (so named, perhaps, be- 
cause one despairs of ever being able to absorb the 
entrancing beauty, the gripping loveliness, of this 
spruce-fringed lake—sweeping limbs drooping over the 
water, incense floating from the sun-drenched boughs) ; 
“down Lake Despair into Despair River; thence into 
Clear Water Lake’ (where reflections are exquisite, 
especially if it be early morning when the violet mist 





+ a ee ss 


Courtesy, Canadian National Rys. 


IN QUETICO PARK 
In the heart of the Rainy River District, where quiet lakes lie calling. 





ee “ 


Courtesy, Canadian National Rys. 


FISHING FOR GRAY TROUT 
Algonquin Park is a region of primeval forests and wild and lovely lakes. 


ONTARIO’S LOVELY LAKES 153 


has just lifted and still hovers, forming a fairy sky 
for the fairy world below, where the upsidedown re- 
flections are like enchanted trees and the whole lake 
lies bathed in magic); “down Clear Water Lake; 
portage into Pipestone Lake—two rapids will be 
found here; down Pipestone Lake’ (soft, greenish 
stone, used by the Indians for their calumets, is here; 
nearby is Footprint Lake, so named by the Indians 
because of strange human footprints embedded in the 
rock ledges, made, perhaps, when the world was 
young) “into Schist Lake; portage’ (over a moccasin- 
trail through a stretch of pine and tamarack, with a 
carpet of shy blue flowers, where squirrels flash across 
the trail and bluejays scold you for coming) “into 
Sand Hill Lake; down Kakagi River—there are three 
portages—into Kakagi Lake; portage into Lake of the 
Woods.” 

This route was followed by the early explorers and 
the fur-traders on their way to Lake Winnipeg and 
the Saskatchewan River. La Verendrye came this 
way in 1732, with his son and a party of adventurers. 
They established a fort on the west side of the Lake 
of the Woods, and a stone cairn now marks its site 
and tells the tragic tale of Verendrye’s son. This lad 
started down-river with a Jesuit and the hardiest of 
the voyageurs to meet supplies coming from Montreal. 
What happened none was left alive to tell. ‘Their 
bodies were found where the Sioux had murdered and 
left them. And here, where the stone cairn now 
stands, they were buried. 


154 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


The Lake of the Woods spreads across into the 
United States; or, more properly, the United States 
runs up into the Lake of the Woods. In romantic 
beauty and historic interest this lake has few rivals. 
Scarcely any one of its countless islands was not at 
some time a battleground where Sioux and Ojibwas 
clashed. Or Crees slipped down from Lake Winnipeg 
to kill a few Sioux for slaves in the next world. It 
lies “where the West begins,” the last of the great 
stretches of forest before the open prairies are 
reached. ‘That gives an added interest to its beauty. 
And beauty there is aplenty, with the broad water- 
stretches, the forested islands, the winding channels. 

There are Indian Reservations on many of the 
islands. ‘This is truly the Red Man’s country—such 
wilderness as his ancestors knew, even though the 
charm be broken occasionally by the anachronism of 
a motorboat snorting its way up and down the chan- 
nels. Many of the islands, the Ojibwas believe, are 
still inhabited by Windigoos. These are bad-gods, half 
human and half devil, and so tall that pine-trees seem 
as grass to them. They eat nothing but Indians. 
Being magicians, they can make themselves as small 
as wood-sprites and wait in hiding behind rocks or 
bushes until a toothsome Indian comes near. Little 
Cree and Ojibwa children of today will never go 
through a lonely wood without a wary eye for the 
lurking Windigoo. 

At the north end of the Lake of the Woods is 
Treaty Island, which becomes a solid splash of color 


ONTARIO’S LOVELY LAKES 155 


when Indians of all ages gather there annually to 
meet the Great White Father and be paid the Treaty 
money and goods promised in the so long ago—and 
faithfully delivered each year. The payment and 
speeches over, the Government Agent departs, but the 
Indians remain for a grand jubilee. First comes the 
ceremonial Feast-of-the-White-Dog, and that is fol- 
lowed by torchlight dancing, to the music of snake- 
skin tomtoms and a shrill flute fashioned from willow 
and wild-rice reed. 

Opposite Treaty Island, on the mainland, the pic- 
turesque Devil’s Gap Bungalow Camp spreads its 
rustic and comfortable cabins in the deep forest, on 
the shore of the lake. With guides and canoes, and 
fishing and camping outfits, to be had here, one may 
live in comfort and yet enjoy the wild lake-and-forest 
out-of-doors of this delightful region. 

The Lake of the Woods has outlet through one 
long, twisting, island-dotted stream that almost is a 
lake itself. This is Winnipeg River, which crosses 
into Manitoba and empties into Winnipeg Lake. At 
the most beautiful stretch of the river is Minaki Inn, 
a famous and luxurious summer hotel, one of the 
largest in Canada, set in a grove of pine and birch 
forest, with the water lapping by, beyond the fringe 
of trees. This land of blue lakes and wooded islands, 
rippling water and soft, velvety skies, the Ojibwas 
considered so lovely that they called it Minaki, ‘‘Beau- 
tiful Country.” 

The long-distance canoe-routes radiating from the 


156 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 
Minaki district and the Lake of the Woods are in- 


numerable. An interesting and exciting one, which 
may be of any length, is to the north of the Province 
of Ontario, through Lac Seul and Lake St. Joseph. 

The northern region, untraversed as yet by a rail- 
road, is little known except to trappers and pros- 
pectors; therefore to adventure-seekers it is vastly 
alluring. Big game and fur-bearing animals abound 
in the forests, and moccasin-trails show where Indian 
trappers are wont to go. The large rivers that flow 
to Hudson Bay or James Bay—the Severn, Winisk, 
Attawapiskat, Albany and many others—form in their 
descent magnificent falls, and beside these the Indian 
trapper pauses to offer to the Spirit of the Water 
some treasure, that the animals may come in plenty 
to his traps and the fish to his nets. Indians who 
have much to do with white men are now carrying off 
anything of value they find at these falls, conscien- 
tiously leaving in their stead, however, a twig or a 
stone; for, they claim in the white man’s language, 
it is not the gift but the giving that pleases the Spirit. 

Ontario’s doors are open wide. ‘There is ever a 
welcome extended, for those who would come for a 
brief sojourn among the forests and lovely lakes, or 
for the settlers who would come and linger, in the 
land of Kitchi Manitou. 

Commercially, its mineral production, including gold 
and silver, is more than twice that of any other prov- 
ince; it leads in live stock and in developed water- 
power; only Quebec surpasses it in commercial tim- 


ONTARIO’S LOVELY LAKES ix? 


ber, and only Saskatchewan in field crops. But it is 
Ontario’s beauty that calls—her vast forests, her en- 
ticing lakes, her timbered hills and winding valleys. 
To the camper or the man with rod or gun these are 
irresistible. To the man with the canoe they are an 
even greater delight, for he may go farther into the 
wilds, may sense the sheer joy of the limpid lakes and 
the thrill of the rushing streams, may, to the dip of 
his paddle, sing with Tekahionwake, Ontario’s Mo- 
hawk poet, 


“‘We've raced the rapid, we're far ahead! 
The river slips through its silent bed. 
Sway, sway, 
As the bubbles spray 
And fall in tinkling tunes away. 
And up on the hills against the sky, 
A fir-tree rocking its lullaby 
Swings, swings, 
Its emerald wings, 
Swelling the song that my paddle sings.” 





Vier vANITOBA, “GOD'S PRAIRIE” 


THE COLORFUL PRAIRIES 

Lorp SELKIRK’s SETTLEMENT 

THE Rep RIver REBELLION 
WINNIPEG, THE Macic City 

‘THE VALLEY OF THE ASSINIBOINE 
PORTAGE LA PRAIRIE 

AN INDIAN STORY 

BRANDON, THE “WHEAT CITY” 
LovELy LAKE KILLARNEY 

LAKE WINNIPEG’S POPULAR BEACHES 
LakE MANITOBA, “PRAIRIE WATER” 
ALONG LAKE WINNIPEGOSIS 

THE GRAND RAPIDS OF THE SASKATCHEWAN 
THE LEGEND OF THE SINGING BIRDS 
THE Pas, GATEWAY TO THE NoRTH 
Historic YORK FACTORY 

Port NELSON, ON Hupson Bay 

THE GREAT CHURCHILL RIVER 

A LEGEND OF SOUTHERN INDIAN LAKE 
THE UNKNOWN NorTH 



















Rhy) 
if te 
AUD 
neo) 
a ie \ Pdi fi AAs Wy 
4 “bait en NNT VARA Ae a8 
‘ ; we Ae Vi apaN As RAN 
7 | Pak ae 
; a Yt oa 
ee ’ é raul we ye mo ot OM! aa rive 
eee 
a, ey AN 
> Fil a See th RAN F 
vy NO i hy, 
i 
a 3) Sie viedo mee 
Satie vai) Yn qr ie 
‘ —, ‘ » 7 a 
‘ii eis ee a oe 
ay 
¥ 
| 
i ay x 
ve Th Ay al 





VI 
MANITOBA, “GOD'S PRAIRIE” 


“I know a vale where the oriole swings 
Her nest to the breeze and the sky, 
The iris opens her petal wings 
And a brooklet ripples by.” 
—Albert D. Watson 


FEW hundred years before the white man 

came to Canada a Sioux chieftain had a 

dream, in which he saw himself at the head 

of a long file of Indians, marching across the Dakota 

prairies toward Morning-land; but as he looked back 

he saw the smoke from the Sioux fires, and many 

people about the tepees he was leaving. His dream 

changed and he was in a canoe, following a bird with 

snow-white wings which was flying toward Always- 
winter-land. 

When he woke, the chiefs of the tribe were called 
to interpret the dream, and the medicine-men were 
consulted; and after many days it was agreed that 
it was a message from the Above People telling the 
chief that he and his followers were to leave the 
Sioux and form a tribe of their own. Quarrels arose 
as to who should go and who remain; but eventually 
the new tribe set out, wandering east and north in 
accordance with the dream. When they came to the 
rocky region about the Lake of the Woods, wild- 


161 


162 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


geese they were following alighted there, and so they, 
too, lingered, and made that region their new home. 
Thus they became known as the ‘‘Sioux of the Rocks,” 
Assini-bwan. (Bwanak was the Saulteaux name for 
the Sioux, and means ‘“‘He-whom-one-roasts-on-a-spit”’ 
—the fate of any Sioux unlucky enough to fall into 
their hands.) The story of the migration of the 
Assiniboines was handed down from father to son, 
and recorded by a Jesuit in 1694. 

After a time these Assiniboines left their rocky 
home and wandered over the vast prairies. ‘Their 
word for prairie was toba; and this new country 
that rolled on and on, with its abundance of game, 
its lakes where fish and fowl were plentiful, its rivers 
for their canoes—surely so delectable a land must be 
the abode of the Great Manito; and so they called 
it ““God’s Prairie,’ Manito-toba, combining the two 
words, as they frequently did, to Manitoba. 

As one looks out today over the rolling prairies, 
the beautiful lakes, and the many willow-fringed 
streams, it 1s not difficult to believe that Manitoba 
was the Chosen Land of the Indian gods. Entering 
the province from the east, especially, the sudden 
change from timberland to prairie is startling: from 
the cool, dark-green depths of luxuriant forests one 
is swept, as by magic, into a land drenched in color. 

For miles the prairies are treeless and level, or 
gently billowing, stretching away to the horizon in 
waves of green and daffodil-yellow and ocher, until 
the great bowl of the sky cups down, in softest blue, 


MANITOBA, “GOD’S PRAIRIE” 163 


to meet them. When the wheat is young, there is 
one vast silver-green carpet, darkened almost to purple 
where cloud-shadows lie. Later, when the grain has 
grown taller, the prairie becomes an undulating blue- 
green sea, silvered by wind-ripples, gilded where the 
sun creeps across it. And when the grain stands 
ripened, wave after wave of burnished gold stretches 
to the horizon. 

The prairie loam is almost black, and where an 
occasional road lies, it winds through the grain like 
a band of purple-black ribbon. 

Wheat is Manitoba’s principal crop, but there also 
are stretches of oats, barley and rye; and nothing is 
more beautiful than the acres of flax, vivid blue flowers 
mingling with the yellow of wild buttercups. 

Prairie wild-flowers claim more than their place in 
the sun. They spatter the fields with color wherever 
they can crowd in among the grain or push back the 
prairie-grass. Wild-roses open pink and fragrant 
blossoms all along the highways; the purple loam of 
prairie-roads is edged with gold—buttercups in the 
early season, feathery asters and goldenrod later; 
black-eyed Susans. crowd together everywhere, mass- 
ing their vivid orange to lure bees that hover over 
honey-sweet thistle. Splashes of red show the In- 
dian’s paintbrush; magenta is coral-weed; drifts of 
white are daisies; glowing yellow is wild mustard. The 
Indian gods were truly generous when thev scattered 
the seeds of flowers over their prairies. 

Manitoba, as the gateway to the unknown west in 


164 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


the early days, has a history filled with romance and 
adventure. In 1670 it became part of that almost 
limitless stretch of territory ceded to the Hudson’s 
Bay Company and known as Rupert’s Land; but, ex- 
cept for the forts on Hudson Bay, more than a half- 
century passed before the first white man entered the 
province. In 1733 Jean de la Verendrye, with a boy- 
ish desire to see what lay beyond the next bend, left 
his father at Lake of the Woods and paddled down 
the Winnipeg River until he reached its mouth at 
Winnipeg Lake. That was the beginning of a history 
filled with adventure, teeming with romance, replete 
with heroism, a history colored by the picturesque 
voyageurs, with their bright sashes and gay songs and 
their hearts of sheer daring, and by the pioneers who 
came hopefully in, bringing their all in long trains of 
covered wagons. 

The city of Winnipeg, the capital of Manitoba, is 
built upon two rivers, where the Assiniboine flows into 
the Red. This was long known as The Forks, and 
was chosen by Sieur de la Verendrye, in 1738, as a 
strategic point for a trading-post. ‘There he erected 
Fort Rouge, having already established Fort la Reine 
at what is now Portage la Prairie. But La Verendrye 
cared little for trading; he was at heart an explorer, 
and he soon pushed westward, leaving Fort Rouge to 
fall into ruins. 

The North-West Company, the rival and bitter 
enemy of the Hudson’s Bay Company, also consid- 
ered The Forks a strategic point, and there erected 


MANITOBA, “GOD’S PRAIRIE” 165 


Fort Gibraltar in 1801. The Hudson’s Bay, not to 
be deprived of so valuable a site, soon had Fort 
Douglas nearby. There was constant conflict between 
the two; and it culminated in the tragedy of the Red 
River Settlement. 

Both fur companies knew the advance of settlers 
meant the extinction of fur-bearing animals; it was 
to their interest to prevent this, and so far they had 
succeeded in doing so, by spreading the report that 
this was a vast stretch of barren land where noth- 
ing would grow but grass so coarse that cattle scarcely 
could eat it. Were their attention called to the lux- 
uriant gardens about the few missions that had been 
established, they would claim that it was because God 
had made it holy ground and sent his special bless- 
ing, that it might flourish for his servants. And so, 
for three-quarters of a century, they had had things 
very much their own way. 

But in 1811 Lord Selkirk, a Scottish nobleman, 
was in control of the Hudson’s Bay Company, and 
dearer to him than furs was a dream he had of found- 
ing a vast empire in the west. By 1812 his first set- 
tlers began to arrive, after being icebound in Hudson 
Bay all winter and suffering intolerable hardships on 
the trail by way of Hayes River and Lake Winnipeg. 
Others straggled along in 1813, ’14 and ’1S, their 
hopes of a rosy life in a new land utterly crushed 
by what they found. They were not wanted here. 
Governor Semple, of the Hudson’s Bay Company, 
received them only half-heartedly; and the North- 


166 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


West Company bitterly opposed them, making no ef- 
fort to stay the acts of violence committed by the 
Nor’-West’s half-breed employees. The quarrels cul- 
minated in what is known as the Battle of Seven Oaks, 
when Governor Semple and most of his men were 
slaughtered, and the settlers fled. 

Lord Selkirk was not the man to give up. Other 
settlers were sent out from Scotland; and, the rival 
fur companies being merged, peace reigned and the 
city that was to become Winnipeg had its real begin- 
ning. Fort Garry was built, to command both the 
Red and the Assiniboine Rivers; and, later, as the 
town grew, another and more substantial Fort Garry 
was erected. 

The region named by the Indians Manitoba, and 
then known as Rupert’s Land, was now called loosely 
the Red River Settlement; but when it joined the 
Dominion of Canada in 1870 its name again was 
changed to Manitoba. For two hundred years the 
Hudson’s Bay Company had controlled the territory; 
and when in 1869 it sold its rights to the Dominion 
fresh trouble came. 

There had grown up a powerful race of half- 
breeds, Métis, who under the régime of the Hudson’s 
Bay had known little law except that of their own 
making. ‘To become part of the well-ordered Do- 
minion was not to their liking. Headed by Louis 
Riel, they turned back the newly appointed Governor, 
then marched upon Fort Garry and captured it, and 
established a government of their own with Riel for 


MANITOBA, “GOD’S PRAIRIE” 167 


their president. This held for about eight months, 
until Colonel Wolseley, with his famous regiment, 
arrived in 1870 and recaptured the fort, Riel find- 
ing it wise to be elsewhere at the time. Far from 
being tracked down and hanged for treason, Louis 
Riel became three years later a member of the Do- 
minion Parliament for Provencher. Within a few 
months he was outlawed; then reélected; then expelled; 
incarcerated in an insane asylum; spent five quiet years 
in Montana; and eventually was hanged at Regina for 
a later act which was adjudged treason. ‘Though this 
Métis with the spectacular career may have been 
‘mystical’? and rash, few more courageous men ever 
lived. 

The old Fort Garry, which figured so prominently 
in the Riel Rebellion, or Red River Rebellion, and 
in Colonel Wolseley’s triumphal march, has gone, but 
its gateway now stands, in picturesque, vine-covered 
ruins, beside the palatial Fort Garry Hotel, in the 
heart of Winnipeg. 

The city of Winnipeg almost makes one believe in 
genii who accomplish miracles overnight. Where, only 
a comparatively short time ago, there were but a few 
crude houses built along a prairie-gumbo road, there 
is now one of the loveliest cities in Canada, with 
spacious streets, beautiful buildings, and many lovely 
parks. It calls itself, quite appropriately, the Sun- 
shine City. What most impresses the visitor is its 
spirit of vitality, of enthusiasm, of optimism, and of 
exuberant cordiality. As the gateway between the 


168 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


east and the west, Winnipeg has become a vast rail- 
road center; and it is the greatest grain market in the 
world, the prairie grain pouring through it for distri- 
bution to the United States, to eastern Canada, to 
Europe, and to other parts of the world. 

The Red River, which the Indians called Miskoue- 
sipi, ‘‘Blood-red River,” enters from the United States 
and crosses some of the finest wheat land in the 
province, the rich soil of the valley having been at 
one time the bed of a vast lake. There are potato 
fields here, also, and ranches where horses or cattle 
are grazing. 

The Assiniboine River comes from the west, from 
Saskatchewan, through a broad, undulating valley. On 
the Assiniboine, a short distance from Winnipeg, La 
Verendrye built his Fort la Reine at the point that 
later was named Portage la Prairie because at that 
place fur-traders began their long portage across the 
prairie from the Assiniboine River north to Lake 
Manitoba. Portage la Prairie is now an important 
grain, railroad, and industrial center, lying in the heart 
of vast stretches of wheat. 

The first white men to come to this region had many 
stories to tell about the manitous, or fetishes, of the 
Indians. They were not peculiar to the tribes here, 
being common, by some name, to most Indian tribes, 
from Alaska to Patagonia; but the Saulteaux and the 
Crees were especially superstitious regarding them. 
Indian boys, as they left their childhood behind, un- 
derwent a period of fasting, usually spent in solitude, 


MANITOBA, “GOD’S PRAIRIE” 169 


in communion with the gods, and whatever object came 
prominently into their dreams or their thoughts at 
that time became their manitou, their guardian spirit. 
Often it was an animal or a bird; frequently it was 
part of an animal, a bear’s claw, a fox’s tail, a wolf’s 
ear; sometimes it was a stone or other object. ‘The 
manitou was believed to be all-powerful; and if its 
magic failed to work, it was because the manitou had 
grown tired of the Indian and deserted him, and in 
that case another period of fasting had to be under- 
gone and another manitou chosen. 

At Portage la Prairie, in these early days, an In- 
dian hunter had a string of fine horses, and also a 
fishnet which the entire tribe envied. One day the 
horses disappeared. His manitou was quickly con- 
sulted, but it refused to reveal what had become of 
them. Days passed, and the Indian searched cease- 
lessly, for the horses had been his great pride. Then 
one day a Saulteaux came to him with a bluebird’s 
wing which he declared was his own powerful mani- 
tou; if the hunter would give the Saulteaux his fish- 
net he would consult the bluebird’s wing about the 
missing horses. The hunter agreed; and the bluebird’s 
wing, speaking through the Saulteaux, told not only 
where the horses were tied in a clump of willow but 
the number of them and their color. This was great 
magic. The tribe looked upon the bluebird’s wing with 
awe, while the hunter hastened off and found the horses, 
every detail being just as the manitou had said. The 
Saulteaux quickly departed, in possession of the envied 


170 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 
fishnet, before it should be discovered that he had 


stolen the horses and tied them there himself, in order 
to get the fishnet by honest means! 

West of Portage la Prairie, and also on the Assini- 
boine River, is the hustling town of Brandon, the 
‘“Wheat City.’ Brandon is the second largest city in 
Manitoba, and it is an important railroad and grain 
center, lying in Manitoba’s greatest wheat district. 
Its huge elevators are conspicuous far across the prai- 
ries. 

South of Brandon are the wholly charming Men- 
nonite settlements, where the ‘‘men of peace” live in 
a very happy world of their own. The Mennonites, 
originating in Germany in the early sixteenth century, 
found refuge from Prussian militarism in southern 
Russia, and from there they emigrated in large num- 
bers to America. They believe in the sanctity of hu- 
man life and of a man’s word, and refuse either to 
fight or to take an oath. They are excellent farmers; 
and their communities are quaintly picturesque, for 
they have constructed their houses to imitate as nearly 
as possible the loved homes in Russia, even to the 
thatched roofs and gabled ends. The living-room, 
stable and cowhouse are all under one roof, communi- 
cating with one another; and above them is the gran- 
ary. [heir homes are spotlessly clean, the copper pans 
and samovars shining as brightly as in the neatest of 
Russian kitchens. The Mennonites are delightfully 
hospitable; and fortunate indeed is the visitor who is 
privileged to sit in a comfortable, home-made chair 





Courtesy, Manitoba Motor League 


SUNSET ON LAKE KILLARNEY 
A prairie lake, with cool blue water and color-drenched 
skies. 


‘S91OYS PasUlsf-391} YIM ‘suIBII}s Surysni yons Auvul sey eqoyuepy 
ddAlad dldlVdd V 





MANITOBA, “GOD’S PRAIRIE” 171 


and listen to the samovar sing while tea is being pre- 
pared, and perhaps even hear a far-away folktale, told 
in broken English. 

An attractive resort in southern Manitoba is Lake 
Killarney, lying like a tree-fringed oasis in the heart 
of broad sweeps of prairie-land. The lake, dotted 
with pleasure-craft and rippling away in the blue dis- 
tance, is beautiful; but it is the wooded shores, ex- 
tending back from fine beaches and rising in hills, that 
give the greatest charm. ‘Trees are always lovely, and 
in the midst of an almost treeless plain their beauty 
seems many times enhanced. Birds fly here, out of the 
glare of the prairie sun, and add their songs to a place 
already gay with nodding trees and wind-blown water. 


“The nut-hatch runs, and nods, and clings; 
The bluebird dips with flashing wings, 
The robin flutes, the sparrow sings, 

And the swallows float and flee.” 


' Manitoba’s greatest resort is Grand Beach, on the 
eastern shore of Lake Winnipeg. It is sixty miles 
from the city of Winnipeg; but with a fast train and 
excellent motor-roads, distance means little, and on hot 
summer days thousands go from the capital city to 
play on the bright-white sands. The water laps in 
gently, on the beach, but on the lagoon side wind 
sweeps down the boisterous lake and throws up an ex- 
cellent surf. 

North of Grand Beach is a quieter resort, Victoria 


172 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


Beach, looking out upon both the lake and the mouth 
of Winnipeg River. This broad stream rushes down 
in such a series of frothy cataracts that the voyageurs 
named it the Foaming River. 

Lake Winnipeg is two hundred and sixty miles long, 
and has many tree-covered islands scattered about its 
always restless surface. The Crees say it figured in the 
creation of man. When the world was all water a 
god came down from the sky bringing in one hand a 
white cloud. But he found no place to put his feet, 
so he changed the cloud into a duck and bade it dive 
below the water to search for land. The duck came 
up with mud in its bill, and this the god blew upon 
until it became one of the islands now in the lake. 
The island so pleased him that he sent the duck below 
for more earth while he flew up for a handful of clouds 
to turn into other ducks. Even today one may see 
them in the marshes that border the lake. Wherever 
the god threw mud, land grew; and then he took 
reeds, blew upon them and made animals, and from a 
young willow-tree, which is greater than the reeds, he 
made man. 

Lake Winnipeg’s twin stretch of water extends par- 
allel with it, but is not so wide and is much more 
irregular. Its northern reaches are Lake Winnipego- 
sis, and the southern part Lake Manitoba, which La 
Verendrye called Lac des Prairies, from the Assini- 
boine name Minnetoba, ‘Prairie Water.”’ 

Lake Manitoba is far-famed for its whitefish; even 
in winter great quantities of these fish are caught by 


MANITOBA, “GOD’S PRAIRIE” 173 


lowering nets through holes in the ice. Its irregular, 
wooded shores make it very beautiful, with many points 
running out into the water. Almost midway it nar- 
rows to “‘Manito’s Strait,’ where the whistling of the 
wind rushing through the narrow passageway was be- 
lieved by the Indians to be the voice of Manito. This 
strait was held sacred by them, and they never passed 
without shooting an arrow onto the shore, to frighten 
away any lurking devils, so the Manito would be un- 
molested. 

Lake Winnipegosis is even more irregular than Lake 
Manitoba, with many deep inlets and bays and chan- 
nels, many lovely islands, many haunts where wild- 
fowl scream across the water. The Swan River Val- 
ley, to the west, was formerly settled by Doukhobors, 
“Spirit-fighters,’’ but most of them emigrated to Brit- 
ish Columbia, where they now have a strong and in- 
teresting colony. 

North of Lake Winnipegosis is Cedar Lake, reached 
by portage. This is a broadening of the great Sas- 
katchewan River, which then again collects its water 
and pours into Lake Winnipeg beyond its spectacular 
Grand Rapids, where for nearly six miles the river 
foams down over rough ledges of rock. A canal now 
skirts the rapids, but in the old days they had to be 
partly tracked and partly portaged. 

This was the route of the fur-traders and the voy- 
ageurs, who ascended the Saskatchewan River to reach 
the great country beyond. Alexander Henry came this 
way in 1775, and a short distance above Cedar Lake 


174 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


he reached a little Cree village, where he was cordially 
received and invited, with his men, to a feast in the 
chief’s tent. Scarcely were they well inside when they 
were all informed they were to be put to death. ‘The 
chief said that he was a peaceable man, however, and 
disliked to take human lives, so he would release them 
if they would deliver to him three casks of gunpowder, 
four bags of shot and ball, two bales of tobacco, three 
kegs of rum, three guns, besides numerous knives and 
other articles. Henry could only agree to this; and 
while the village was “making merry” under the in- 
fluence of the rum he managed to escape and continue 
up the Saskatchewan to the Hudson’s Bay post on 
Cumberland Lake. 

North of Cedar Lake there is a stretch of forest 
that is a so-called game reserve, where wild animals 
abound and only fowl are protected. Many song-birds 
come here, finding an abundance of food in the wild- 
grain and the marsh-grasses, and shelter in the forest. 
It was in this region, the Indians say, that birds first 
learned how to sing. An Assiniboine once made a lot 
of songs, packed them in a bag, and set out on a 
journey, with the songs on his back. ‘They soon grew 
heavy, and he had to stop and rest; and at last, when 
he reached this stretch of woods, he could go no 
farther. He set the sack down, leaning it against a 
pine-tree, and lay down beneath it and went to sleep. 
There was an old crow up in this tree, and he was 
very curious to know what the man could have in his 
sack. He hopped down to a lower limb, where he 


MANITOBA, “GOD'S PRAIRIE” 175 


could get a better view of it. Then he felt certain 
it must be maize, so he swooped down and pecked a 
hole in the sack, with his bill open ready to swallow 
the grain as it began to pour out. But out came a 
song, instead, and lodged in his throat. Unluckily, he 
had injured it in pecking, so all he could sing was, 
“Caw! Caw!” The Indian jumped up quickly, but 
already his sack was empty, for the songs all came 
floating out of the hole and were drifting round, not 
knowing where to go. The Assiniboine then called the 
birds, and each chose the song it liked best. Some of 
these songs, however, are still floating about the forest, 
for the trees hid them when the birds came, keeping 
them to sing to Keewatin, the North Wind, when he 
comes to play through their branches. 

Moose Lake spreads part of its irregular shores 
back into this forest, its shallow waters, high-blown 
by the wind, also holding a choral of the Assiniboine’s 
songs, one might believe. Many wild-fowl are here, 
finding nesting-place on the islets or among the reed- 
grown margins of the lake; and in the trees along 
the southern shore, 


“The chearefull birds of sundry kynd 


Doe chaunt sweet musick.”’ 


To the west, on the Saskatchewan River, where the 
Pasquia River flows into it from the north, is The 
Pas, an important lumber town and the gateway to a 
mineral area immensely rich in gold, silver, copper 
and other ores. Gold is found also in the eastern part 


176 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


of the province, and much no doubt remains yet to be 
discovered in the unfrequented north. 

The Saskatchewan, flowing through Lake Winnipeg, 
has outlet through the strange Nelson River which in 
its long, winding course seems unable to determine 
whether it shall be a chain of lakes or a river proper. 
Where it leaves Lake Winnipeg the Hudson’s Bay 
Company has one of its historic posts, Norway House; 
and near the mouth of the Nelson, where Hayes River 
flows into Hudson Bay, is York Factory, the Hudson’s 
Bay post founded in 1682 and captured by d’Iberville 
when he made his spectacular raid on the English forts 
in 1697. It then was repeatedly captured and recap- 
tured; for it was the gateway into the vast fur regions 
of the west, and both French and English wished to 
control it. 

The most important town on Hudson Bay is Port 
Nelson, at the mouth of the Nelson River. There al- 
ready is steamship service between this port and Liver- 
pool; and when the railroad has been completed con- 
necting it with the prairie towns it will become one 
of the greatest grain-shipping ports in the world, for 
at least the open-water months. Also its lumber in- 
dustry will be important, for there are immense tracts 
of timber along the Nelson River, and an abundance 
of available water-power. 

North of the Nelson, and flowing through an un- 
traveled wilderness, is the great Churchill River, more 
than a thousand miles long, crossing both Saskatche- 


MANITOBA, “GOD'S PRAIRIE” 177 


wan and Manitoba to empty into Hudson Bay. In its 
course it forms innumerable lakes; the largest, almost 
an inland sea, is Southern Indian Lake, covering fif- 
teen hundred square miles. This long, irregular, and 
very beautiful body of water, dotted with islands, lies 
in caribou-land, in a country almost unknown except to 
‘Chipewyan fur-trappers. 

On the shore of Southern Indian Lake, in the long 
ago, Chipewyans say, while the men were’ off hunting, 
two boys were playing together about the camp, hay- 
ing a contest to see which could shoot the higher. 
One of them, Little Pine, had a magic bow, and when 
he shot, his arrow lodged in the sky; he shot another 
arrow, and it lodged in the first one, and another and 
another, until soon he had a ladder of arrows reaching 
from the earth up beyond the clouds. He climbed up 
to see where it would lead, and when he reached the 
top the Old Woman in the Moon grabbed him, and 
held him for a slave. The boy on earth waited and 
waited, and when Little Pine did not return he started 
to climb after him; and just then he looked into the 
lake, and there he saw the Moon’s reflection, and 
Little Pine held by the Old Woman. Then he knew 
that he must disguise himself. He tied blackberry- 
bushes all round him until he was completely hidden in 
them, and as he climbed they flowered and bore fruit 
and he had berries to eat. The Old Woman in the 
Moon grabbed the bushes; but the boy had his sharp 
flint ready. He cut the thong that bound them and he 


178 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 
and Little Pine escaped down the ladder while the Old 


Woman was scratching her fingers on the briars. 

North of the Churchill River there is a vast region 
of Manitoba that is little known. Much of it is “bar- 
ren land,” covered with caribou-grass and occasional 
clumps of trees. There are many large lakes and many 
streams; and to the adventuresome canoeist this area 
offers fascinating possibilities. 

The Province of Manitoba is so well-known for its 
wheat that one is apt to overlook its other great re- 
sources—in live-stock, in fisheries, in minerals, and 
especially in manufactures, which alone amount to 
nearly two hundred million dollars annually. There 
are immense deposits of gold, silver, copper and other 
ores; there are vast areas of pulpwood; there are furs 
in the untraveled wilderness, and an unlimited supply 
of fish in the lakes and rivers. That Manitoba’s riches 
are fast being appreciated, however, is shown by her 
astonishing census. In the past half-century the num- 
ber of her inhabitants has increased more than five 
thousand per cent. 

“God’s Prairie” is a pleasant place to live; and it 
is a charming place to visit. Whether in the winter, 
when the land lies blanketed in snow, and iceboats and 
snowshoes and sleighbells are in order, or whether in 
summer when the prairies have come into their own, 
there is always interest and delight. In the moon of 
the falling leaves the lemon-yellow stubble is checkered 
with patches of bright emerald where new growth has 


MANITOBA, “GOD'S PRAIRIE” 179 


started hopefully forth, and sprinkled with autumn’s 
wild-flowers in purple and yellow. In the moon of the 
budding leaves—but all the world is lovely in spring- 
time. 


“When the laughing lakelets lie 
Blue beneath an azure sky, 
And the sleepy earth awakes 
And her wrinkled garment shakes; 
All along the gurgling streams 
Willows grasp the warm sunbeams, 
Aspens nod, and birches stand 
Smiling in this happy land— 
The land of Manitoba.” 





Aeiuet BY Raha 
ah Eh , 6 POL Re y 


VII. COLORFUL SASKATCHEWAN 


PRAIRIE GOLD 

THE LEGEND OF Qu’APPELLE 
LovELY REGINA 

MEDICINE-WATER AT LITTLE MANITOU 
Moose JAw’s NAME 

AT SWIFT CURRENT 

THE Loon LEGEND OF CyprREss HILLS 
THE WONDER CITY OF SASKATOON 
On Bic MaAniTou LAKE 

Hisroric BATTLEFORD 

PRINCE ALBERT, THE GATEWAY 

A PRAIRIE LEGEND 

TREATY Money AT ILE A LA CROSSE 
Tue MIGHTY CHURCHILL RIVER 
REINDEER LAKE 

AN INDIAN FISHING SECRET 

LAKE ATHABASCA 

THE LEGEND OF CREE LAKE 

INDIAN CHILDREN 





: j ‘ ipa 
wR ee 1 ‘vA a \ 
ey ‘+ an 


Were ye With : i 


Vil 
COLORFUL SASKATCHEWAN 


“Within the vale a lakelet, lashed with flowers, 
Lay like a liquid eye among the hills, 
Revealing in its depths the fulgent light 
Of snowy cloudland and cerulean skies. ... 
And all was silent save the rustling leaf, 
The gadding insect, or the grebe’s lone cry, 
Or where Saskatchewan, with turbid moan, 
Deep-sunken in the plain, his torrent poured.” 
—Charles Mair 
HEN the Indians of the long ago came 
upon a broad and turbulent river, with 
many rapids where the water is thrown 
back in foaming eddies before it goes racing on, they 
named it Kisiskadjiwan, ‘‘The-river-that-turns-round- 
when-it-runs.”’ 

The Saskatchewan is formed of two large rivers, 
the North Saskatchewan and the South Saskatchewan, 
which rise in the Rocky Mountains of western Alberta 
and after wandering their roundabout ways come to- 
gether in the center of Saskatchewan Province, flow 
onward into Lake Winnipeg, and reach Hudson Bay 
through the erratic Nelson River. This was the great 
route for the fur-traders, the first white men to push 
westward, and for explorers who were eager to see 
what lay beyond the buffalo prairies. Into these wilds, 


too, came the heroic missionaries, bringing their Faith 
183 


184 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


and undermining the prestige of the medicine-men. 
David Thompson, a pioneer of the West, came often 
upon an Indian village in Saskatchewan where the 
religion was a strange commingling of the old and the 
new. He tells of one place where the chief took his 
red ceremonial pipe and ‘“‘gave three whiffs to the Great 
Spirit, three to the Sun, three to the Sky, three to the 
Farth, three to the Four Winds, and three to the 
Virgin Mary.” ‘Thompson adds: “It seems that when 
the French first entered these fur countries every sum- 
mer a priest came to instruct the traders and their 
men in their religious duties, and preach to them and 
the natives in Latin, it being the only language the 
Devil does not understand and cannot learn.” 

The southern half of Saskatchewan is largely prairie- 
land, scattered about with innumerable lakes. The 
northern half is densely timbered, with chains of lakes 
and rapid rivers; and many lakes so large they are 
veritable inland seas. No railroads enter this northern 
forest-land, and so it remains unsettled except for an 
occasional Hudson’s Bay post or a shack of an Indian 
trapper. 

Saskatchewan, the middle of the Three Prairie Prov- 
inces, is the greatest wheat-growing section in Canada, 
more than half of the wheat raised in the Dominion 
coming from its broad sweep of golden prairies. The 
land here is more rolling than in Manitoba, and a 
stretch of half-grown wheat reaches away to the 
horizon like a sea storm-tossed into great waves. The 
color is the blue-green of the ocean—bluer, almost 


COLORFUL SASKATCHEWAN 185 


purple, where shadows lie; greener, almost yellow, in 
the bright sun. Wild mustard crops up in the wheat, 
and the prairie, thus mottled yellow and green, re- 
sembles an endless and fantastic Chinese rug. A ne- 
glected stretch of land soon becomes massed yellow 
with flowers, broken only here and there by a patch 
of emerald, like a cool green oasis, where wild wheat 
has pushed its way to the sunlight through close- 
crowded flowers. Occasionally a stream will go wind- 
ing through the wheat, the water fringed with willows 
and cottonwoods; or an indigo lakelet will lie, fluffed 
with white where wild ducks float or suddenly dip 
head downward to reach lily-roots in the mud. Here 
and there clumps of trees, an aspen or willow copse, 
will be seen, or a coulée where wild prairie-grass and 
bright marsh-flowers mingle in gay splashes of color. 

In the southern part of the province the Qu’Appelle 
River winds through a wide and softly undulating 
valley. When, in the early days, the voyageurs 
ascended the Assiniboine and turned westward into its 
largest tributary they found themselves crossing prai- 
ries so lovely that for sheer joy their voices were raised 
in a merry chanson. To their surprise a voice came 
back to them across the valley. 

‘‘Qu’appelle?” cried the voyageurs. (“Who calls?’’) 

“Ow appelle?” came the voice; for it was but an 
echo. 

Distinct echoes are heard in several places along the 
valley; and the river still bears the unusual name of 
Qu’Appelle. The Indians say that in the long-ago a 


186 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


monster stalked through this valley, eating Indians as 
he went; and when he could eat no more he constructed 
cages of willow, imprisoned the Indians in them, and 
sank the cages to the bottom of the river, to keep the 
food cool and fresh till he came back that way. But 
he never returned, for the displeased Great Spirit 
changed him into Moose Mountain; and it is the wail- 
ing of these caged Indians, up and down the valley, 
that causes one to ask, ‘“‘Qu’appelle ?” 

Regina, the capital of the province, and for long 
the capital of the vast Northwest Territories before 
the readjustment of boundaries in 1905 made Saskatch- 
ewan a separate province, lies at the edge of the 
Qu’Appelle Valley, in the very heart of the prairies. 
This beautiful city, with a lovely if artificial Wascana 
Lake, with many parks, and imposing buildings, is one 
of the most important industrial centers in the Middle 
West. It also is an important railway center and a 
great wholesale distributing point. Its population is 
about forty thousand. | 

For nearly half a century the world-famous Royal 
North-West Mounted Police had their headquarters at 
Regina; and their successor, the Royal Canadian 
Mounted Police have now an important station there. 

Regina’s favorite play-resort is on the shore of 
Last Mountain Lake, a few miles north of the city. 
This is an exquisite body of water curving down a 
twisted valley beyond the ‘“‘last mountain” of the 
Touchwood Hills. The lake has outlet in Qu’ Appelle 


River. 


COLORFUL SASKATCHEWAN 187 


North of Last Mountain Lake, and connected with 
it by stream, is a remarkable mineral lake, said to be 
richer in curative properties than any other body of 
water in the world. Little Lake Manitou, so named 
by the Indians because of the magic powers with which 
they credited it, is about fourteen miles long and a 
mile and a half broad, and lies but three miles from 
the railroad station of Watrous. Bathing in its water 
is a great tonic to the system, and a delightful ex- 
perience as well, because of the extreme buoyancy of 
the water. The Indians brought their sick here, carry- 
ing them for miles over the prairies, to cake them with 
the salt-mineral-mud, let it dry upon them in the sun, 
and then bathe them in the healing water. Buffalo- 
trails led to the lake; for bison, too, learned of the 
value of the mineral properties and came in herds to 
the salt-licks here. 

Big Quill and Little Quill Lakes, not far away, were 
favorite camping-places of the Crees, because of the 
innumerable wild-fowl that haunt them. Ducks and 
geese are here in great numbers; and there are par- 
tridge in the wheat, and ruffled grouse and prairie- 
chickens in the wild grasses. These two prairie lakes 
are remarkably beautiful. Their wind-ruffled surfaces 
are a changing deep-blue, with an edging of white foam 
where the water runs back into the reeds. 

West of Regina is Moose Jaw, an important com- 
mercial center and a wholly modern city, with wide 
clean streets and substantial buildings. The flour-mills 
and towering grain-elevators and the numerous stock- 


188 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


yards are conspicuous features. The picturesque name 
of the city, Moose Jaw, is an abbreviated translation 
of the Indian word meaning ‘‘Creek-where-whiteman- 
mended-cart-with-moose-jawbone.”’ In one word the 
Indian thus gives an entire and eloquent picture of 
pioneer days, when ingenuity was as great an asset as 
fortitude. 

The prairie beyond Moose Jaw has many cattle 
and sheep and horse ranches, and the rolling wheat- 
land is varied with broad stretches of flax—exquisitely 
beautiful when it is in flower and the waves of green 
are speckled with vivid blue. 

Still farther west the town of Swift Current spreads 
itself along a stream that sings down from the Cypress 
Hills and hastens on to join the South Saskatchewan 
River. In summer the stream is scarcely more than a 
swift-running brook, but with the freshets it becomes 
a turbulent river and shows its importance by racing 
madly through the city and changing its tinkling song 
of summer days to a growling roar. | 

The Cypress Hills, in the southwest corner of the 
province, have great stretches of woodland which the 
birds find wholly alluring. 


“A thrush is hidden in a maze 
Of cedar buds and tamarack bloom, 
He throws his rapid flexile phrase 
A flash of emerald in the gloom.” 


In the days when Indians alone wandered here, the 
Cypress Hills, rising high above the surrounding plains, 


COLORFUL SASKATCHEWAN 189 


were coveted by all the neighboring tribes; for in the 
forests were food-animals not found on the prairies, 
the trees supplied firewood, and the many lakes, cupped 
in the valleys between the hills, gave an abundance 
of fish. The Blackfeet and the Crees, the Snakes and 
the Crows were constantly fighting over the region. 

In the days before the grandfathers, a legend states, 
a band of Assiniboines had their tepees pitched about 
a lake in the Cypress Hills, when the enemy fell sud- 
denly upon them and captured the entire village. In- 
stead of roasting and eating the prisoners, as was usual, 
they tied them fast to trees, cut out their tongues, 
and left them. A great howling went up from the 
Assiniboines; they were calling loudly for aid; but 
with their tongues gone their cries were but weird 
wails. The Moon Woman looked down to see what 
all the noise could be about, and in compassion turned 
the suffering Assiniboines into loons. But she could 
change only their bodies; their spirits remained in tor- 
ment. And now, when one hears a loon crying across 
the prairies, one may know it is the wail of a tortured 
Assiniboine. 

Wood Mountain, consisting of a number of clay 
hills, rises in the extreme south of Saskatchewan, and 
the many lakelets that lie in its hollows find ultimate 
outlet in the Gulf of Mexico, for they are drained 
by streams which flow into the Missouri. Moose Moun- 
tain, Beaver Hills and Touchwood Hills rise conspicu- 
ously above the plains and are notable features in a 


190 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


land that reaches away in illimitable stretches of rolling 
prairie. 

Through the heart of the wheat-growing country 
flow the North Saskatchewan and the South Saskatche- 
wan Rivers, and on the banks of the latter is the 
wonder-city of Saskatoon, known as the ‘Hub City.” 
Only a few years ago, comparatively, there were but 
a handful of cabins here, the principal food of the 
occupants being the saskatoon-berries which grew plen- 
tifully along the river-bank and were eaten fresh in 
summer and dried in winter. From these berries the 
city took its name. Springing up like magic, Saskatoon 
is today the second largest city in the province—Regina 
ranking first. Saskatoon is of much importance as a 
manufacturing, distributing and railroad center; and 
it is an educational center as well, the University of 
Saskatchewan, situated here, being affliated with Ox- 
ford. Also it is an attractive city, with broad streets, 
five bridges spanning the river, and a pleasant boule- 
vard extending along beside the olive-yellow water. 

West of Saskatoon the prairie is varied by occasional 
clumps of trees, usually with horses or cattle standing 
eratefully in their shade. In this section stock-raising 
and dairying are as important as wheat; and timothy, 
oats and other grains stretch away, often on land that 
is perfectly flat, mile after mile, to the skyline. 

A harvesting scene on the prairie is like a great 
painting come to life. The men, the horses, the mam- 
moth tractors and reapers, the immensity of the prairie 
—all are drenched in color. The sky is like blue 


& 


Courtesy, Canadian Pacific 





A SASKATCHEWAN LAKE 
Wild-fowl nest in the reeds, and cattle are grateful for the cool, 
pleasant water. 


“aUTJAYS Jy} JO an{q ay} 0} ABME YORI 9/qqn}s MoOT[aA-UNS PUB s}eO UApP[Or) 
alwIVad AHL NO ONILLSHUAUYVH 





COLORFUL SASKATCHEWAN Igt 


enamel, so clear, so clean; the standing grain is ocher, 
changing to pale-lemon where the reapers pass and 
leave only stubble; low wild-roses and dog-daisies, un- 
touched by the reaper, gleam in pink and pale helio- 
trope. With the fragrance of the freshly cut grain 
there is often the pungent sweetness of wild pepper- 
mint, where a creek has wandered through the prairie 
or a pond or sloo has given moisture to the water- 
loving plant. Rabbits, frightened out of the wheat, 
go loping across the stubble, and disturbed partridges 
whirr up and as quickly are hidden again. 

Big Manitou Lake, covering nearly seventy square 
miles, lies near the boundary between Saskatchewan 
and Alberta and is much in demand as a camping- 
place because of its convenience to the railroad and 
its delights of boating, bathing and fishing. In the 
same region is a beautiful little body of water, fairly 
covered with wild-fowl, which bears the story-sugges- 
tive name of Killsquaw Lake. 

Beyond Big Manitou Lake, Battle River rushes past 
on its way to join the North Saskatchewan, and where 
these two rivers come together is the historic little 
prairie town of Battleford, at one time the capital of 
the great Northwest Territories. Battleford figured 
prominently in the Riel Rebellion of 1885 which ended 
the career of that picturesque half-breed. A few miles 
away is North Battleford, built on the banks of the 
North Saskatchewan, and fast leaping into prominence 
as one of the prosperous and quick-growing prairie 
cities. 


192 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


The most important city on the North Saskatchewan 
River is Prince Albert, which lies as the gateway be- 
tween the vast prairie regions of the southland and 
the vaster forests of the north. Prince Albert, as 
the outfitting-point and the last link with civilization 
for traders, prospectors, or adventure-seekers who are 
bound for the wilds of the north, has a dash of the 
picturesque and the romantic that is not found in other 
prairie cities. Here come men who have been for 
weeks or months or years in the wilderness; and, 
eagerly listening to their tales, are men, bound for the 
north, who have not yet gone on the lone trail, men to 
whom the wilderness means but a fascinating maze of 
forests and rivers to be compassed; they know nothing 
of its desolation, nothing of the great loneliness, noth- 
ing of the hardships of the trail. 

There are three much-traveled canoe-routes leading 
into the far fur-country from Prince Albert. One of 
these is down the Saskatchewan River to Cumberland 
Lake, which lies near the Manitoba border; thence 
north to the Churchill River by a string of lakes and 
connecting rivers and ending with Frog Portage. 

On Cumberland Lake the Hudson’s Bay Company 
has one of its very old and historic posts, Cumberland 
House. Alexander Henry was there in the winter of 
1775, setting out from Cumberland House early in 
1776 on a foolhardy trip over the prairies which still 
lay deep in snow. He and his men barely escaped 
starvation. Twenty-two years previously, before the 
Hudson’s Bay Company had established its post, An- 


COLORFUL SASKATCHEWAN 193 


thony Hendrye camped on the shores of the lake; but 
it was summertime then, and there was an abundance 
of food everywhere. He was on his way to find the 
““Horse-riding Indians’’—the Blackfeet. He had come 
from far-off York Factory, on Hudson Bay. All the 
Indians he had known traveled by canoe or snowshoe; 
but rumors came of a nation across the plains who 
hunted on horseback. So Hendrye, from pure love of 
adventure, set out to find if that be true. From Cum- 
berland Lake he ascended the Saskatchewan, and then, 
leaving his canoe, set off across the prairies with his 
Indian guides. He records the herds of bison he saw, 
the moose, wapiti, and countless fowl, and then adds: 
“T went with the young men a-buffalo-hunting, all armed 
with bows and arrows; killed several; fine sport.” 

The most usual route north from Prince Albert into 
the wilds is the most direct—through the long and 
beautiful Montreal Lake, Montreal River, and the 
great Lac la Ronge, into the Churchill River. 

The Crees on the shore of Lac la Ronge have a 
creation-legend which had its origin sometime after 
their knowledge of the white race and of negroes. 
The Great Spirit created the first man, the legend 
states, by forming him out of mud and placing him 
in an oven to bake; but he took him out too soon, 
and this underdone specimen became the grandfather 
of the Pale Faces. The Great Spirit made another 
mud man, and this one he cooked too long, until it 
had burned black; its descendants were negroes. Once 
more the Great Spirit tried; and this time the man 


194 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


was richly browned, just as he ought to be; and from 
this one the Indians descended. 

The third route into the north from Prince Albert 
begins by train to Big River, a truly frontier town. 
There the canoe is launched in Crooked Lake, and 
passes through Crooked River, Beaver River and Ile 
ala Crosse Lake. 

When Beaver River receives the outlet from Lac la 
Plonge—a great inland sea surrounded by spruce and 
pine forests, edged with reeds and water-lilies—it 
spreads itself into marshland, with winding channels 
between the tall reeds and yellow marsh-grass, and 
many sapphire lakes along its margins. 

History and romance center about Ile a la Crosse 
Lake, a favorite stopping-place for all voyageurs who 
passed that way. And the lake has wild and spec- 
tacular beauty as well. It lies in a valley hemmed in 
with spruce and pine and tamarack forests; and edging 
the water are cottonwood-trees, their white trunks and 
silver-green leaves mingling with the dark foliage of 
the spruce and pine. Beneath the tall trees, wild- 
flowers break away from a tangle of underbrash and 
crowd out to the open spaces; great boulders and 
pebble-beaches lie in half-hidden coves; birds nest along 
the shore, and porcupines climb the poplars to feed 
on the tender bark. At this lonely forest lake there 
is a wealth of wild animal life; and there is much 
beauty, 


“Under the whispering pines, 
Where the dogwood breaks in bloom 


COLORFUL SASKATCHEWAN 195 


And the peaceful sunlight shines, 
Where wild birds sing and ferns unfold, 
When spring comes back in her green and gold.” 


On one of the many islands in Ile a la Crosse Lake, 
Treaty Money is paid, and the Indians gather for an 
annual powwow, a feast, and a colorful ceremonial 
dance. 

North of this lake one canoe-route leads direct to 
the great Athabasca River, passing through Peter Pond 
Lake—an arm of'the immense Churchill Lake—across 
the height-of-land into Clearwater River. Another and 
more lonely route follows down the Churchill River. 

As the Churchill, one of the mighty rivers of Can- 
ada, crosses the province of Saskatchewan in a twisting, 
tortuous course, it consists of lake after lake, connected 
by swift-running water in which rapids or falls show 
the descent of the river in its long journey to Hudson 
Bay. The country through which it travels is true 
wilderness. Dense forests hem in the lakes, and for 
more than a hundred miles no habitation is seen unless 
it be a deserted Indian-shack, the thatched roof as 
forlorn-looking as the tumbling walls. Bird and ani- 
mal life here are a joy to one unaccustomed to the 
wilds. Bears shamble through the forest, pushing aside 
drooping spruce-boughs to get at the luscious berries 
and buds below, or they come to the shallows to slap 
a fish out of the swift-running water. Moose stand 
in the edges of the lakes and feast on spicy water- 
lilies. Deer flash out of the forest, bound over the 
rocky beaches, and are lost again in the spruce-depths. 


196 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


Where the Churchill receives its greatest tributary 
from the south—bringing the water of Montreal Lake, 
Montreal River and the broad and superb Lac la 
Ronge—there is a little settlement of Cree half-breeds 
known as Stanley Mission Post. A Protestant mission 
is here, and a Hudson’s Bay post. To the man who 
has spent weeks paddling through the wilderness, Stan- 
ley Mission is a haven looked forward to for many 
days, not only that supplies may be replenished at the 
Hudson’s Bay store but for the strange and unbe- 
lievable joy of hearing again a human voice. 

Beyond Stanley Mission, fifty miles or so down the 
Churchill, is Frog Portage, which begins the trail south- 
ward to Cumberland Lake; and still farther down the 
Churchill, the crystal water of Reindeer River comes 
down from Reindeer Lake to join the mud-yellow 
water of the Churchill. 

Reindeer Lake, for all its lonely setting in the great 
wilderness of the north, edging almost upon the Bar- 
ren Grounds, is worth traveling far to see, for it is 
superbly lovely. The lake is a hundred and forty miles 
long and nearly forty miles broad at its greatest width; 
and the water is so pure—said to be the purest lake 
water in the world—that it is a clear silver-green in 
color, changing through all the shades of blue and 
green as the light varies. Hundreds of rocky islands, 
close-crowded with spruce and pine, contrast their dark 
foliage with the sparkling water, as waves, crystal- 
bright, are thrown up by the wind. The shores, too, 
are densely wooded, in the southern reaches, and edged 


COLORFUL SASKATCHEWAN 197 


often with rough gray cliffs, or crescent bays that 
curve back into the dark forest, beaches of sand and 
shingle gleaming between gay-green water and somber 
green trees. Extending back from the lake there are 
rolling hills, the green of their slopes changed to smoke- 
blue in the distance. 

There is a Hudson’s Bay post at the southern end 
of the lake, and a larger post, Fort du Brocher, at 
the northern end, in Manitoba, where the lake spreads 
across into that province. The luxuriant forests here 
have given way to scattered clumps of trees and rolling, 
grass-grown hills. 

Reindeer Lake has long been the winter feeding- 
ground of the northern caribou, and their trails criss- 
cross in every direction. The Aurora Borealis, which 
is so brilliant and so beautiful here, is caused, the 
Chipewyans believe, by reindeer running across the 
sky; for they have discovered that electric sparks flash 
from the skin of a reindeer when it is briskly stroked 
on a dark night, and so they believe the lights in the 
sky to be reindeer in quick motion. 

Reindeer Lake, Wollaston Lake, Black River and 
Black Lake formed the great highway of the early 
traders to Lake Athabasca, which spreads its two- 
hundred-mile length across from Alberta into Saskatch- 
ewan. 

When David Thompson came this way in 1796 he 
called it a ‘‘wretched Countrie of Solitude, which is 
broken only by the large Gulls and the Loons, and 
Myriads of Musketoes.’”’ Where Black River leaves 


198 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 
Black Lake—called by the Indians the ‘‘Lake of the 


Great Spirit’’—it falls in two superb cataracts to the 
level of Lake Athabasca; and these falls were believed 
to be the home, respectively, of good and bad spirits. 
To the first, Manito Fall, the Indians made offering, 
that luck might be with them; to the second, Devil’s 
Fall, they made offering to the evil spirit that he might 
leave them and go to their enemies. One of David 
Thompson’s guides gave a copper ring, and the other 
a piece of tobacco. ‘Thompson says, ‘“The Chepawyans, 
who have replaced the Nathaways, make no offerings 
to anything.”’ He expressed profound gratitude to an 
old Chipewyan, however, when this Indian taught him 
the trick of catching trout through the ice. For three 
days Thompson and his men had had nothing to eat 
but “two lean Gulls and three young Eaglets.”” While 
the guides were searching for food, Thompson cut five 
holes in the ice and fished eagerly, and vainly, for two 
days. Then along came the Chipewyan. He grunted 
his disgust, cut a hole in the ice near those Thompson 
had made, dropped a line, and in no time hauled up 
‘a fine Trout of full thirty Pounds.”” Thompson was 
amazed, until the Indian gave him the secret. He had 
greased his bait. 

‘He remarked to me,’ adds Thompson, “that I 
came too soon and staid too late; that the Trout took 
Bait only for a while after Sunrise to near Sunset, but 
that about Noon was the best time. It has always 
appeared strange to me that a Trout in Forty Fathoms 
of Water, with a covering of full Five Feet thickness 


COLORFUL SASKATCHEWAN 199 


of Ice, on a dark cloudy Day, should know when the 
Sun rises and sets; but so it is.”’ 

Lake Athabasca is nearly two hundred miles long 
and from twenty to thirty miles broad. Its northern 
shores are high and rocky, with spectacular cliffs, 
tinged red from seeping iron. The southern shore is 
low and sandy, and in many places barren except for 
marsh-grass and mosses, with a scattering of cranberry 
and other bushes. Caribou feed here in great numbers; 
and the forest solitudes are the haunts of big game 
and fur-bearing animals. 

A beautiful and lonely lake lying high in the hills, 
in northern Saskatchewan, its broad, deep-blue water 
hemmed in by forests, is Cree Lake, with outlet through 
Cree River and Black Lake. When the white men 
came to this region it was the country of the Chipe- 
wyans; but preceding them the Crees had claimed the 
hunting in the forests and the fishing in the lakes and 
rivers; and it is a Cree legend that clings to the 
lake. 

In the beginning of time the Great Spirit created the 
world and a race of Indians, but the Indians forgot 
to thank him or make offerings to him, so he was much 
displeased and plunged the whole world into a deep 
lake, that everything might be drowned. But Eagle 
had grasped two Indian children in his talons and 
carried them up to the sky, and there they grew up 
among the Star-children. When the Great Spirit lifted 
the world out of the lake and created a new race 
of animals and people, he forgot these two; and they 


200 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


forgot the earth. There was one part of the sky where 
the Earth-children were forbidden to go, and a Star- 
squaw was set to guard it. One day she left the sky- 
corner for a few moments, and the Earth-children ran 
quickly to the forbidden spot. Alas, once they touched 
it, the whole sky-piece fell to earth, bringing the chil- 
dren with it. As it reached the pine-forests, the deep- 
blue sky-piece turned into the deep-blue Cree Lake, 
and the children into islands. ‘The hole in the sky was 
mended with clouds; but in the very center of the 
lake, the Crees say, one can look up and see the Star- 
squaw still peering down at the Earth-children islands. 

Saskatchewan has many Indian Reservations, and 
these are always interesting and delightful. The men 
may be away, helping the white man, and the women 
may be resentful of the too-curious visitor; but there 
are ever fat-cheeked children to stare with round 
black eyes, and brown little fingers will never be slow 
in closing over a penny or a nickel. After one proves 
quite thoroughly that one has no intention of eating 
little Indian children, it is not difficult to become 
acquainted, and perhaps even get the story of the 
rabbit that has just been chased through the grass, 
or the partridge that has been flushed where the tall | 
wheat grows, or maybe the sparrow that came and 
sang on a willow-twig; and then, as a great honor, a 
little brown hand may be placed in yours and you 
may be led to the creek and shown the delights of 
catching minnows. Indian children are shy, wild little 


COLORFUL SASKATCHEWAN 201 


things until they know you; and then they are alto- 
gether charming. 

Sportsmen are lured to Saskatchewan by the big 
game in the forests of the north, where moose, elk, 
deer, caribou and bear abound, and by the great quan- 
tities of wild-fowl—which seem too lovely to kill. 
Especially when sunset is on the plain and the prairie 
lakes are drenched in color are these great wild birds 
exquisite. 

A prairie sunset is a gorgeous pageant, to be likened 
only to sunset far out at sea. For a few brief moments 
the whole sky is aflame; and then flaring colors troop 
by, as if on parade, changing rapidly from one bright 
shade to another, and merging at last, slowly, imper- 
ceptibly, into the lavender of twilight. And this deep- 
ens until the sky is all soft purple, darkening subtly. 


“Twilight creeps back, adown the lane 
Beyond the sunset’s golden bars, 

When night enfolds the sleeping plain 

With robe adorned with beads of stars.” 


ye ‘ b 
{ 
4 


sae eeAG 
fh Pe if ae Tey 
alt 2 | Gi 
bad , 
ia os MARA 1) 7 


i 
; 
ap 


ie 


ih i} it Mt ue 





VIII, LOVELY ALBERTA 


A CHIPEWYAN LEGEND 

THE GREAT PEACE RIVER 

Fort McMurray 

THE LEGEND OF LESSER SLAVE LAKE 
In JASPER NATIONAL PARK 

THE ATHABASCA TRAIL 

MieTTE Hor SprinGcs 

RoMANTIC LAc BEAUVERT 

Mount EpiTrH CAVELL 

THE ATHABASCA FALLS 

THE LEGEND OF MALIGNE CANYON 
InpIAN Macic aT PyraAmMip MOUNTAIN 
In Tonquin VALLEY 

YELLOWHEAD Pass 

EDMONTON, THE CAPITAL 

CALGARY AND THE SOUTH 

Over Crow’s Nest Pass 

WATERTON LAKES NATIONAL PARK 
Rocky MountTAINS NATIONAL PARK 
THE Famous BANFF DISTRICT 
LEGENDS OF LAKE MINNEWANKA 
AT LAKE LOUISE 

THE VALLEY OF THE TEN PEAKS 


Re aanep Ma RY RON OOD C/o 
: ‘ in it Abe Mee & PUPA at 


aon 






j fia tS | rm ¢ ~ 1 ‘ ; "/ 
« vy ‘ie Doe Bee ds, Piel Tee 
‘| 
: j 
1 
1 
‘ 
\ 
5 
a a 
A 
Vw 
. 
‘ 
it j PF, F 
: Ty Ale Wee ers] Hee ns S| Ls, , , 
‘ ; ; bus * “> ity : ens 
Wet iid Srey os CI Ae Gv 

4 , ’ i , : 4 Ay , De. j fhiy my 
, te ni) 

* ‘ tl q 

Pe RM 
\ , Or 


ste ar Ps A 





Vill 
LOVELY (ALBERTA 


“High in the paling light 
And touched with the sunset’s glow, 
Soaring and strong and free, 
The unswerving phalanx sweeps, 
The honking wild-geese go— 
Go with a flurry of wing 
Home to their norland lakes 
And the sedge-fringed tarns of peace 
And the pinelands soft with spring.” 
—Arthur Stringer 
LBERTA is peculiarly rich in scenic beauty; for 
it has the varied loveliness of treeless, un- 
dulating prairies, of vast stretches of forests, 
of rolling foothills, and of majestic mountains per- 
petually covered with snow. The eastern boundary lies 
in the prairies; the western boundary, for more than 
half its distance, extends along the Continental Divide, 
where the Canadian Rockies are at their highest. 

In the northeast corner, Lake Athabasca reaches 
across into Saskatchewan, with about half of its three 
thousand square miles in Alberta. This was the land 
of the Chipewyans; and the forests, the lakes and 
rivers are steeped in their legends. One of their tra- 
ditions shows a knowledge of steam-power. 

According to this legend, there was a wicked Indian 


who was hunted for many crimes. On the shore of 
205 


206 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


Lake Athabasca, back from the water’s edge, he dug a 
pond, stocked it with fish, that he might have both 
food and water, then built entirely over it an igloo- 
shaped house of stone and mud, leaving only one 
opening at the top, where an arrow shot into it would 
land in the water and dono harm. Here at last he felt 
safe, even when his enemies were shouting outside. 
But they heard their arrows splash in water, and 
changed their tactics. They heated a huge pile of 
stones and these, instead of arrows, they dropped 
through the opening, into the pond; until the steam 
at last blew up the house and they fell upon the 
Indian and killed him. 

Lake Athabasca, in its lonely, far north setting, is 
a superb inland sea. ‘The steel-blue water reaches out 
for miles, shading into indigo where granite peaks 
crop up, melting into purple at the horizon. At sun- 
rise or sunset the lake is especially magnificent, for then 
there is no horizon—the flame of the sky merges into 
the flame of the water, forming, above and below, one 
vast sea of color. 

Lake Claire, almost an arm of Lake Athabasca, lies 
like a great blue bowl, just west of the larger lake, 
much of its shore marshland where myriads of water- 
fowl feed. 

Athabasca River empties into Lake Athabasca from 
the south; while on the north the Slave River, soon 
joined by the Peace, carries the lake-water eventually 
to the Arctic. The Slave River route was followed 
by Alexander Mackenzie when he discovered the great 


LOVELY ALBERTA 207 


Mackenzie River. He set out from Fort Chipewyan, 
on the northern shore of Lake Athabasca, a fur-trading 
post which had been established in 1788 for the North- 
West Company. Since 1821, when the Nor’-Westers 
joined the Hudson’s Bay, Fort Chipewyan has been 
an important post of the Hudson’s Bay Company. 

The Slave River cuts through a desolate stretch of 
northern Alberta—desolate but wonderfully interest- 
ing. Caribou feed on the hills and seek out the tender 
grass in the valleys; wild buffalo still roam over the 
plains. West of the river there are timbered moun- 
tains where grizzly, black and cinnamon bear, moose 
and deer abound, as well as the much-sought fur- 
bearing animals. Through the far northwest corner 
of Alberta, Hay River flows in a direct course to Great 
Slave Lake, carrying the excess water from its own 
large and lonely Hay Lake. 

The greatest waterway of northern Alberta is the 
Peace River, which, beginning at the “meeting of the 
waters’ of the Finlay and Parsnip in British Columbia, 
cuts its way through the Rockies, tumbles down through 
the foothills and crosses into Alberta through some 
of the finest grazing land in the world. Wandering 
then in an erratic course through Alberta’s northland, 
it empties into the Slave as that river leaves Lake 
Athabasca. One Indian tribe called the Peace ‘The- 
river-that-goes-into-the-mountains,”’ for their canoes 
Swept up it to reach the Rockies, the ‘Shining Moun- 
tains.” The Beaver tribe, however, named the river 
Unchagah, ‘‘Peace,” for on its banks was settled a war 


208 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


that long had waged between the Beavers and the 
Crees. 

The charming little prairie town of Peace River— 
and the most important town in this northwest region— 
lies in the midst of the great Peace River District, 
famed for its agricultural land. The town is pleasantly 
situated where the Smoky River comes north from 
Jasper National Park to empty into the Peace. 

While Peace River is northern Alberta’s greatest 
stream, the river that is most loved is the Athabasca, 
which rises in Jasper National Park, winds tortuously 
across the province, gaining in volume by the water 
from many lakes and rivers, and rushes on to end 
in Lake Athabasca. 

One of the finest stretches of the Athabasca River 
is where the Clearwater races down from the hills 
of the east to join it, singing its way through forested 
valleys, tumbling over precipitous ledges. Here Fort 
McMurray is located, at the strategic point where the 
two rivers meet. This important post lies in the midst 
of the greatest tar sand deposits in the world; nor is 
that all, for the region is rich in natural gas and oil, 
salt, pulpwood and timber, while the forests abound 
in fur-bearing animals. And the natural wealth of the 
Fort McMurray region detracts nothing from its nat- 
ural beauty. The Athabasca River, here broad and 
swift-flowing, races by in the shadow of softly rounded 
hills, gray-green where the shaggy trees of the living 
forests mingle with the ghost-gray trunks of trees’ 
that were. A spectacular moment is when the ice breaks 





Courtesy, Canadian National Rys. 


PYRAMID MOUNTAIN, JASPER PARK 
Because of the riot of colors that ceaselessly come and go, the Indians 
believed this to be a magic mountain. 





Photo. by the Author 


LAC BEAUVERT AT SUNSET 
Wild clouds and gorgeous colors flood the sky and linger well into 
twilight. 


LOVELY ALBERTA 209 


up inthe spring. All winter the river has been seething 
below the surface; when the warm spring sun at last 
reaches through, the unleashed force of the water 
crushes the ice, pushing it aside in great heaps of 
translucent green and blue and dazzling white, piling it 
up only to grab and devour it as the turmoil of the 
water increases. 

Farther south the Athabasca receives the water from 
Lac la Biche, a broad, wind-blown lake, rimmed round 
with forest trees. On the west the Athabasca is joined 
by the water from Lesser Slave Lake, the largest lake 
wholly in Alberta. The Lesser Slave covers about six 
hundred square miles, and stretches through a wide 
valley which curls back from it in rolling hills. 

There are many legends regarding this immense 
lake. One of them has to do with the days before men 
came into the world and only animal-people lived. 
No lake was here at that time; and a great drought 
fell upon the land, and all the grass and trees and 
then the animals began to die of thirst. At last Eagle 
volunteered to fly up and peck a hole in the sky to let 
the rain down; but he pecked such a large hole that 
before a cloud could mend it the world was flooded. 
The animals and the trees and the grass began as 
quickly as they could to drink up the water; and they 
drank so greedily and so fast that soon the world 
was all dry again. This was as bad as before. There 
was not a drop of water anywhere. Eagle once more 
volunteered, but this time he flew to the Moon Woman. 
She is always making baskets; when she finishes them 


210 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


the world will end, but there is a great dog set to 
watch her, and before she completes the last one he 
destroys them all and she has to begin at the beginning 
again. Eagle grabbed two of her baskets and brought 
them to earth. One of them contained Summer and 
the other Winter. Eagle opened Winter-basket and 
scattered snow and ice on the ground, and then opened 
Summer-basket and let enough heat escape to melt the 
snow. And so the rivers and lakes were formed. When 
the baskets were nearly empty Eagle threw them on 
the ground, and all the snow escaped and spread over a 
great area, and the heat escaped and melted it; and 
thus Lesser Slave Lake was formed. The Moon 
Woman’s baskets still lie at the bottom of the lake; 
and that is why there are such deep snows in that 
region in winter, and such a luxuriance of wild-flowers 
in summer. | 

Lesser Slave River, almost a lake in itself, connects 
the lake with the Athabasca River, which the Indians 
called ‘‘Great-river-of-the-woods,” even as they knew 
the Saskatchewan as “‘Great-river-of-the-plains.” 


“The mighty voice of Canada will ever call to me. 

I shall hear the roar of rivers where the rapids foam 
and tear, 

I shall smell the virgin upland with its balsam-laden 
air, 

I shall dream that I am riding down the winding, 
woody vale, 

With the packer and the packhorse on the Athabasca 
trail.” 


LOVELY ALBERTA 211 


No stretch of the Athabasca is more beautiful, no 
trail more delightful to ride, than where the mighty 
river cuts through its broad, timbered valley in Jasper 
National Park. This largest of the Canadian National 
Parks is a vast mountain wilderness, extending from 
the foothills that edge the prairies to the highest and 
mightiest of the Canadian Rockies. 

In 1810 David Thompson, a partner of the North- 
West Company, wintered on Brulé Lake, pushing on- 
ward in the spring of 1811 up the glittering Rockies 
until he stood beside three glowing lakes that lie in 
the shadow of McGillivray’s Mountain on Athabasca 
Pass. The following year sandy-haired Jasper Hawes, 
of the North-West Company, was sent to establish a 
trading-post on the upper Athabasca; and near the 
shore of Brulé Lake—which is but a broadening of the 
Athabasca River—the historic Jasper House was built 
by him in 1812. Not even the ruins of the log house 
remain; but this pioneer fur-trader, with the téte 
jaune, has his name emblazoned throughout all the 
region: Yellowhead Pass and Jasper National Park 
being only two of the prominent places that so honor 
him. 

Above Brulé Lake the Athabasca River, green with 
islands, sweeps about the foot of Roche Miette, which, 
with Roche a Perdrix, was one of the landmarks on 
the long trail from the prairies across the Rockies. 
The bare, bleak summits of these peaks, reaching high 
above timberline, are conspicuous features up and down 
the Athabasca Valley. Roche Miette was named for 


212 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


an adventuresome voyageur who climbed up through 
the slippery forest, passed beyond the last of the tim- 
ber, scaled the bare rocky peak, and on its highest 
pinnacle sat with his legs dangling over an abyss of 
two or three thousand feet while he smoked a leisurely 
pipe. Milton and Cheadle, coming this way in 1863, 
described Roche Miette as rising perpendicularly like 
“half a sponge-cake cut vertically.” 

The Miette Hot Springs, when they become more 
widely known, will prove a great attraction to Jasper 
National Park. They lie in a romantic valley, shut 
deeply into the hills; and the water, rich in radium 
and other properties, has almost magic curative pow- 
ers. Not far away are the Sulphur Hot Springs; and 
tucked into unfrequented and densely wooded valleys 
are numerous other mineral hot springs as yet unsung 
by the white man but long known to the Assiniboines. 

Almost opposite Roche Miette, across the Athabasca 
Valley, Snake Indian River rushes down through the 
mountains, drops over a rock-ledge, forming a spec- 
tacular and beautiful fall, and then foams and roars 
its way through a rugged canyon. In the spring, when 
the freshets have come, the Snake Indian Falls and the 
river are magnificent; but even in August, when the 
stream is at its lowest, there is wild beauty in the 
madly rushing water, there is music in its rhythmic 
roar and reverberation against the rock-walled canyon, 
there is poetry in its white-foamed loveliness, and 
fascination in its frantic haste. 

Among the mountains that rise above Snake Indian 


LOVELY ALBERTA 213 


River a conspicuous peak is Roche de Smet, named for 
the good Father de Smet when he came up from his 
Blackfeet camps in the Oregon country to minister to 
his friends the Assiniboines here. He could make only 
a brief visit; but these Indians adored him, and when 
he was leaving there were great lamentations and ex- 
pressions of friendship, and then “each one discharged 
his musket,’’ De Smet writes, “in the direction of the 
highest mountain, and with three loud hurrahs gave it 
my name.” As the smoke of the Assiniboine campfires 
rose thereafter in sight of Roche de Smet, the Indians 
came to believe that the spirit of the Belgian missionary 
remained there, on the peak that bore his name. 

The transcontinental railroad, running through the 
heart of Jasper National Park—and thus making ac- 
cessible to thousands the magnificent mountains, the 
exquisite lakes, the winding, timbered valleys—skirts 
the shore of Brulé Lake and the very lovely Jasper 
Lake, and clings to the Athabasca River until the 
little village of Jasper is reached. Here the Miette 
River, making its way importantly down from Yellow- 
head Pass, flows into the Athabasca. 

The Government headquarters for the Park are at 
Jasper; and a totem-pole with a history as unique as 
itself; but the attraction of the town for the visitor 
is that it is the railroad station for Jasper Park Lodge, 
the gateway to a region of utter fascination. 

Jasper Park Lodge itself is the last word in a bunga- 
low camp, and it is becoming deservedly famous the 
world over. This is largely because of its superb 


214 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


location. Glacier-capped mountains, winding lakes, 
color-splashed peaks and fragrant forests shut in the 
Lodge. At its very feet lies Lac Beauvert, so sheltered 
by close-crowding pine and spruce that the water 
scarcely ripples and in its lavender-blue depths forests 
and snow-mountains are brightly reflected. 

Lac Beauvert has a strange magic, and few who see 
it fail to come under its spell, fail to sense its friendly 
personality and be enchanted by its ravishing beauty. 
The Assiniboines have a legend that the Rainbow, 
looking down from the sky, saw a stretch of silver 
curving like a deep bow through the pinewoods. This, 
thought he, would be a happy color to add to his own 
splendor; so he came down to the lake to get the bow 
of silver. Once on its shore, he found it too entrancing 
a spot to leave. The Rain and the Sun had to tear 
him away and carry him back to the sky; and as he 
wept at leaving, his colors all dripped into the lake, 
and these the happy lake to this day displays. 

The water is ever-changing in its shades of amethyst 
and blue and green and dull-gold. This is partly due 
to the changing colors on the reflected mountains as 
shadows creep across them. At sunrise, when trailing 
wisps of mist lie againt the mountains and are reflected, 
like floating thistledown, in Lac Beauvert, the lake 
is so exquisitely lovely it appears unreal. The sym- 
metric Pyramid Mountain, gorgeously colored, is dup- 
licated at one end of the lake; and at the other end 
the snow-white glory of Mount Edith Cavell, nearly 
fifteen miles away, is reflected softly. 





Courtesy, Canadian National Rys. 


MOUNT EDITH CAVELL, JASPER PARK 
This beautiful mountain forms a majestic memorial to the martyred 
nurse. 


. 


*‘Sy9O0I pai-uolt uo AjiyJos salt MOUS ‘S9d1} Ud2IS YI pue JazeM ysAy}OWIe PuOosIg 
LYYANVUE OVT AO HOLAULS LIINAS V 





LOVELY ALBERTA 215 


Mount Edith Cavell, 11,033 feet high, is a majestic 
memorial to the martyred nurse. The snow-mantle 
that eternally enfolds the mountain is a soft blue- 
white, its shadows constantly changing from heliotrope 
to purple. Ghost Glacier clings to the rock-mass, with 
wings outspread, like a hovering angel, while at the 
foot of the peak lies Lake Cavell, its beauty scarcely 
noticed in the greater glory of the mountain. 

One of the many scenic rides from Jasper Park 
Lodge leads to the foot of Mount Edith Cavell. The 
road follows up the broad Athabasca Valley, clinging 
at first to the forested lower reaches of The Whistlers 
—so named from the whistling marmots that call to 
one another across the hills; it climbs ever upward, 
giving a view of Buffalo Prairie, known by the voy- 
ageurs as Prairie des Vaches because of the number 
of bison that grazed there. Leaving the Athabasca 
Valley far below, the road climbs beside the Astoria 
River, affording a panorama out over timbered valleys 
with silver streams curling through them; out over 
the tops of blue-black spruces to a vista of snow and 
ice and mighty masses of rock. 

Across a range of mountains, dwarfed by the tow- 
ering Edith Cavell and its neighboring peaks, the 
Whirlpool River races down to the Athabasca, linger- 
ing in the most delightful spots to whirl about madly, 
as if it would give of its giddy beauty to this sedate 
mountain world before racing on to a valley where 
all is loveliness. 

The upper reaches of the Athabasca have more than 


216 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


a giddy moment in the spectacular Athabasca Falls. 
Here, with Mount Kerkeslin looming above, the water 
dashes eighty feet from a broad precipice into a narrow 
rock canyon, and in fury at being so confined the river 
voices its anger in thunderous roars as it goes lashing 
down the canyon beating against the cliffs. 

One of the loveliest lakes in the Canadian Rockies 
is the misnamed Maligne Lake, lying in a superbly 
beautiful valley in Jasper Park. Years before the 
white man came, an Assiniboine, in the long trail over 
the mountains to the Athabasca Valley, limped up to 
this lake with one foot badly blistered. He had heard 
of ‘‘medicine water’? somewhere here, and believed this 
to be the lake. His foot pained him sorely, so he sat 
down upon the shore, took a sharp-edged rock and 
cut a deep gash in his foot to let the pain escape, and 
then immersed his foot in the lake. It became much 
worse, from the bad cut; and ever afterward the In- 
dians called this Sore Foot Lake, and came to believe 
that there were evil spirits in the water who kept the 
foot from healing. The French voyageurs, coming into 
the region, accepted its Indian reputation and called it 
Maligne. 

Maligne Lake is nearly twenty miles long, and lies 
deep between snowpeaks and glacier-hung masses of 
rock, which are reflected in all their delicate coloring 
in the water below. Wooded points run out into the 
lake; boulders are flung carelessly about; and myriads 
of wild-flowers crowd down so closely to the water 
that their reflections nod back at them as they are 


LOVELY ALBERTA 217 
stirred by a breeze. The soft beauty of the lake, the 


rugged grandeur of glaciers and mountain masses, the 
splashed color of mountain-meadows, give to Maligne 
Lake an extraordinary and exquisite loveliness. 

Maligne River, leaving the lake, races in a tumultu- 
ous and tortuous course down to the valley of the 
Athabasca. On its way it lingers at one delightful 
place where purple mountains drop down to a lavender 
lake, and dark-green spruce and pine forests climb 
up between outcroppings of iron-red rock. This is 
Medicine Lake, and its waters range through all the 
shades of heliotrope and lilac. 

The river leaves Medicine Lake underground, using 
a subterranean bed for many miles before it seeps 
out again as Maligne River. The Indians explained 
this by saying that Medicine Lake has magic healing 
powers, and when a man bathes in it the water seizes 
his pain and sends it by the river down below to the 
abode of the Seven Devils, to be used there in tor- 
turing criminals. 

Not yet content with its strange route and its un- 
usual beauty, Maligne River further distinguishes it- 
self by forming a canyon which geologists call one of 
the most remarkable in the world. It is a solid rock 
gorge, nearly a mile long, about two hundred feet 
deep, and so narrow that the rock walls almost meet 
overhead. The many falls, deep in the gorge, are mag- 
nificent as seen from the brink of the canyon, the white 
foam of the cataracts emphasized by the gloomy 
depths. Where the river swirls in an eddy, still grind- 


218 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


ing with broken rock and sand, great deep bowls, 
known as “potholes,” are formed. Some of these are 
fifty feet in diameter. Ferns and moss cling to the 
rugged walls of the canyon and are sprayed with mist 
from the falls; wild-vines droop from the brink; and 
even flowers creep down the rough cliffs. 

The roar of the water as it beats against the rock 
walls caused the Indians to believe that evil spirits 
dwell in Maligne Canyon. There was an Indian chief 
who had many sons, they say. One of these had been 
chosen by the tribe to succeed him. The brothers were 
naturally jealous, but fearing their father, they planned 
to wait till his death and then cast the favored son 
to the Fish Monster who lived at the bottom of the 
canyon. But the old chief had the magic eagle’s feather 
and when he wore that he knew all things; and he had 
the magic crow’s feather, which enabled him to com- 
mand the winds. He called the fierce North Wind and 
ordered him to carry off the cruel brothers. This the 
North Wind was happy to do; but as the young men 
struggled in his grasp, he loosed his hold and let them 
all fall into the depths of this canyon. The Fish Mon- 
ster greedily devoured them, and kept their spirits for 
slaves. Should any one attempt now to climb down 
into the gorge, the Indians say, mishap in some form 
will surely befall him; for these wicked spirits, unable 
to leave, revenge themselves upon mortals who dare 
come near their gloomy abode. 

Where Maligne River rushes out of the canyon, to 
end its course in the Athabasca, Colm Range towers 


LOVELY ALBERTA 219 


above it, and here is Roche Bonhomme, “Old Man 
Mountain,” with the profile of a peaceful old man. 
The Indians will tell you this is none other than the 
old chief, keeping eternal watch to see that his sons 
do not escape from the Fish Monster. 

From Medicine Lake a pony-trail climbs the hills 
and drops down into delightful valleys, winding 
through forests fragrant with spruce and pine and 
carpeted with flowers, to Jacques Lake, lying like a 
great blue bowl in a pocket in the hills. Mountain 
goats and sheep delight in this lake, and scamper up 
and down the rocky ledges that rise above the water; 
black and grizzly and cinnamon bear wander through 
the forests; and moose and caribou often are seen 
feeding on the white and yellow water-lilies fringing 
smaller lakes nearby. A trail back to the Lodge leads 
through Shovel Pass, where the early fur-traders had 
to improvise shovels and dig their cold way through 
sudden snowdrifts. Signal Mountain, conspicuous in 
the Maligne Range, is reminiscent of Indian signals, 
sent from its sharp summit and seen far up and down 
the Athabasca Valley. 

One of the most spectacular peaks in Jasper Park 
is Pyramid Mountain. Seen from the Lodge, across 
Lac Beauvert and a stretch of timbered hill, the sym- 
metric rock-uplift is a riot of splashed colors. Green, 
blue, lavender, gold, red, gray, violet—all spread over 
the rocks, merging from one vivid shade to another 
even as one watches. The Indians were fascinated by 
this kaleidoscopic coming and going of colors. They 


220 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


believed it to be a magic mountain. The white man 
knows the simple explanation; and while knowledge 
may destroy some of the glamour, it detracts none from 
the exquisite beauty of the peak. The slopes of the 
many bare rock pyramids that form the mountain are 
deeply crevassed and corrugated: this means ever- 
changing shadows as the light creeps across them, and 
so the iron-washed and sulphur-tinted rock is cease- 
lessly changing from its basic red, green, blue and yel- 
low through all the gamut of shades. 

Pyramid Lake, at the foot of its great mountain, 
is a veritable liquid rainbow, so lovely are its many 
hues, reflected from the rocky wall above; while sur- 
rounding it are mountain-meadows flaming with flow- 
ers. One stretch is especially lovely, where bright- 
yellow lilies cover the hillside, crowded so closely that 
from a distance the hill appears to be made of beaten 
gold. Magenta fireweed is here too, and red and pink 
mountain heather, Indian’s paintbrush, and many lu- 
pines. 

Three striking peaks—Mount Geikie, Turret Moun- 
tain and Bastion Peak—vwere, according to a legend, 
once three monsters who stalked through this Jasper 
Park region, devouring all the animals and even the 
forests, and drinking up the lakes and rivers. Great 
Hare, summoned from the north, turned them into the 
mighty wall now known as The Ramparts, flanking 
the Amethyst Lakes in Tonquin Valley. 

This valley, with the lakes winding through it, is 
surely one of the loveliest places in the world. There 


LOVELY ALBERTA 221 


are two lakes, so closely connected that they form but 
one, curving back into the mountain wall in a three- 
mile crescent. Towering above them, thousands of 
feet, are the stupendous peaks of The Rampart, snow 
massed in their hollows, dazzling glaciers spilling down 
to the amethyst water of the lakes. On the opposite 
side a carpet of flowers runs back to the edge of the 
forest, and climbs on up, even beyond the timberline, 
to where the rocks lift to the snow-splashed peaks of 
Clitheroe, Maccarib and Oldhorn. The Amethyst 
Lakes, set so deeply into their valley, lie unrippled, and 
the flower-bright meadows on one side and the rock 
walls and hanging glaciers on the other duplicate their 
colorful splendor in liquid beauty in the water below. 

The Ramparts stretch away from the lakes in a 
series of turreted peaks, the highest of these being 
Mount Geikie, reaching upward more than ten thou- 
sand feet. Beyond The Ramparts and lying along the 
Continental Divide there is a vast icefield, where im- 
mense glaciers are cradled between peaks of rugged 
rock. In the midst of this world of ice and snow 
Mount Erebus, 10,234 feet high, lifts its sheer black 
walls. 

A short distance from the Amethyst Lakes lies 
Chrome Lake, a bowl of liquid dull-gold cupped in 
the mountains. Pine forests crowd about it; and flow- 
ers, honey-sweet, call to hungry bees. Only the con- 
tented buzzing of the wild bees can be heard in the 
intense quiet, except when a rare zephyr finds its way 
into the valley and. 


122 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


‘“‘Awakens in the dark memorial pines 

A velvet-footed, cedar-scented breeze, 

That whispers where the green and knotted vines 
Enmesh the cloistered colonnade of trees.” 


The adventure-loving David Thompson ascended 
the Athabasca River, came to the Whirlpool River, 
kept ever up and up, and so discovered the Athabasca 
Pass across the Continental Divide. This had long 
been used by the Indians as a hunting-trail. At the 
very summit lies a small and lovely lake, with the 
strange name of Committee’s Punch Bowl. When this 
trail became the great highway for fur-traders, none 
passed without lingering beside the little lake, even 
though only long enough to delve down into their 
packs, bring out the bottle of wine they had preserved 
for this very purpose, and drink a toast. Begun as a 
sort of thanksgiving that the highest point on the trail 
had been reached, this toast-drinking beside the Com- 
mittee’s Punch Bowl soon became a tradition. ‘Those 
who by some ill luck had no wine, stooped and drank 
from the lake. 

While the Athabasca Pass led to the great Columbia 
River district, the Yellowhead Pass was the highway 
into the vast fur country of New Caledonia, as upper 
British Columbia was called. The Yellowhead is one 
of the famous passes of the Rockies. It is the gateway 
through which the Canadian National Railway passes 
in crossing the continent. It was named for yellow- 
headed Jasper Hawes, whom the half-breed trappers 
called Téte Jaune, although for a long while, because 





Photo., F. H. Slark 


DN 


SUNSET ON THE ATHABASCA 


In the background are The Whistlers, where whistling marmots call 
across the hills, 





gost 


Courtesy, Canadian National Rys 


SHEEP-RANCHING IN ALBERTA 
There are vast stretches of the prairie where thousands of sheep 
are grazing. 


LOVELY ALBERTA 223 


of the immense shipments of dressed leather sent this 
way, it was known as Leather Pass. 

Milton and Cheadle, the delightful travelers, came 
over this route in 1863, and had the misfortune to 
start a forest fire. Almost eaten alive by mosquitoes, 
they first cleared a space and built a smoke-fire for 
their horses; then they built a similar fire for them- 
selves. Suddenly they discovered that the horses, 
crowding madly together to get into the smoke, had 
scattered the fire, and the forest was ablaze. ‘‘Cheadle 
seizing an axe,”’ their journal states, ‘‘felled tree after 
tree to isolate those already fired, while Milton ran to 
and fro fetching water in a bucket from a little 
pool. ... The flames flared and leaped up from branch 
to branch, and from tree to tree, in the most appalling 
manner as they greedily licked up, with a crackle and 
splutter, the congenial resin of the trunks, or devoured 
with a flash and a fizz the inflammable leaves of the 
flat widespreading branches.” 

In a small and lonely lake in the southeastern corner 
of Jasper National Park the Brazeau River has. its 
source, and tumbling down through the foothills gives 
its burden of snow-water to the North Saskatchewan, 
the mighty river which rises on the slopes of Mount 
Athabasca. 

The North Saskatchewan describes a great arc 
through the province of Alberta; and on its high bank, 
where the prairies of the east merge into the foothills 
which run up into the mountains of the west, and where 
the vast forests of the north come down to meet the 


224 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


treeless plains of the south, the city of Edmonton, the 
capital of Alberta, is located. 

In 1795 the North-West Company established a 
trading-post here, and quickly built about it a fort 
to protect it from the too-eager Hudson’s Bay Com- 
pany. It proved even then to be an important point, 
the center from which fur-highways radiated—by canoe 
to the east and west, by dog-sled or pony to the north 
and south. Today it is a vastly important center— 
the gateway to the immense wealth of the north, to the 
timber and oil and mineral and fur region, and to the 
great Peace River District with its grazing lands and 
fertile soil. 

Visitors know Edmonton as a beautiful city, a city 
of spacious streets and pretentious buildings. The Uni- 
versity of Alberta, the most northerly college in 
America, is located on the high bank of the river; 
opposite it are the imposing Parliament Buildings. The 
Macdonald Hotel is noteworthy because of its ma- 
jestic proportions and of the splendid view it commands 
of the valley of the Saskatchewan and a vast panorama 
of rolling prairies. The population of Edmonton is 
about sixty thousand; and the city is noted not only 
as an educational center but as a manufacturing and 
distributing point and as the greatest railroad center 
of the Canadian Northwest. 

Calgary, with more than seventy-five thousand in- 
habitants, is the largest city in Alberta, and the most 
important industrial point between Winnipeg and Van- 
couver. It is called the Prairie City, but it lies, nearly 


LOVELY ALBERTA 225 


thirty-five hundred feet high, at the edge of the foot- 
hills, on a picturesque site almost encircled by the Bow 
and the Elbow Rivers. The buildings are of gray 
granite quarried nearby, and this gives them a stately, 
substantial appearance that does much to beautify the 
city. There are many lovely parks and many fine resi- 
dences; it is easy to believe that Calgary is a pleasant 
place to live. Its leading hotel, the Palliser, is ten 
stories high, and from its roof a glorious view of the 
Rocky Mountains is to be had. 

A refreshing little town lies on the direct railroad 
between Edmonton and Calgary. This is Didsbury, 
which, with its population of nine hundred, contains 
nine hundred boosters. But certainly there is reason 
for boasting of this enterprising center of a large 
mixed-farming community. Up-to-date stores, preten- 
tious brick buildings, paved streets and electric lights 
are its pride; to these it might add the wholehearted 
cordiality with which it greets the stranger, and an 
enthusiasm and optimism that make one feel the better 
for having been there. 

A charming city in southern Alberta is Medicine 
Hat, perched upon the banks of the South Saskatche- 
wan River, in the heart of natural gas-fields. Farther 
west, Lethbridge, a tree-lovely city of about twenty 
thousand, on Old Man River, lies in the midst of 
valuable coal-fields. Still farther west is the historic 
town of Macleod, founded by the Royal North-West 
Mounted Police, the oldest town in southern Alberta. 

About midway between Macleod and Calgary, at 


226 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


High River, is the famous ranch belonging to the 
Prince of Wales. It is in a beautiful part of Alberta, 
where there are rolling prairies and winding, tree- 
shaded creeks. 

Macleod lies at the beginning of the foothills which 
gradually reach up to Crow’s Nest Pass, 4,449 feet 
high, on the British Columbia boundary. Crow’s Nest 
Mountain, standing eternal guard over the Pass, its 
resplendent snow and ice summit more than nine thou- 
sand feet above sea-level, is a landmark for many miles. 
It resembles a giant beehive, its rocky walls striated 
in purple and green, snow clinging to the ledges, its 
foot buried in shale and dark forests. Far below it 
lies Crow’s Nest Lake, framed in the hills. 

In the extreme southwestern corner of Alberta is 
Waterton Lakes National Park, adjoining Glacier Na- 
tional Park in the United States. 

One of the legends regarding the creation of the 
Waterton Lakes region says that an Indian brave had 
fallen into the hands of the Seven Devils, and been 
carried off to their abode. There he lost his heart 
to an Indian maiden being held by them; and together 
these two planned to escape. Before leaving, they stole 
three magic gifts: a stick, a stone, and a basket of 
water—lIndian cooking-baskets were waterproof. The 
Seven Devils started in quick pursuit; but the Indian 
threw the stick upon the ground, and at once there 
sprang up the luxuriant forests now at Waterton Lakes. 
The underbrush delayed the Devils, but soon they had 
broken through and were again upon the fleeing pair. 


LOVELY ALBERTA 227 


The Indian threw down the stone, and great moun- 
tains sprang up to block the way. Before the Devils 
could compass these, the Indian emptied the water 
out of the basket and the Waterton Lakes appeared, 
filling up the valley; the basket then turned into a 
canoe and the lovers escaped. 

The largest of the Waterton Lakes lies across the 
international boundary, part of it in Glacier National 
Park and part in Canada. Waterton River, leaving 
the Canadian end of the lake, lingers in the mountain 
valley to form a chain of exquisite lakes before it 
wanders northward as a river proper. These together 
form the Waterton Lakes. They wind down through 
a misty valley, with mountains lifting softly, or garish 
cliffs edging the water, their vivid coloring ribboned 
here and there with the white of waterfalls pouring 
down from the snow-heights above. 

A wind that sweeps down the valley keeps the lakes 
ruffed, and silver ripples run ceaselessly across them, 
coming from nowhere, going nowhere. Wild-flowers 
crowd about the shores. Pinkish-purple heather, espe- 
cially, seems to have claimed this as its particular world 
and selfishly crowds out other blossoms but tolerates 
an occasional Scotch thistle, honey-sweet with perfume. 
The heather and the thistle seem appropriate here, 
for there are stretches of the Waterton Lakes, with 
their softly folding hills, that are not unlike the Scot- 
tish lakes. Even the mists are here; and in the early 
morning, while these hover low and the sunrise colors 
glow above them, the lakes are exquisite. The moun- 


228 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


tains, on the shadow side, are still a sleepy purple; 
but where the sun reaches them across the valley, they 
are bright gold. | 

Both Waterton Lakes and Jasper National Park 
extend upward to the Continental Divide; and about 
midway between these two, and also running up to the 
Divide, is the first Canadian National Park created. 
This is Rocky Mountains National Park. It includes 
the famous Banff and Lake Louise districts, and is 
sometimes called Banff Park. 

In the southeastern corner of Rocky Mountains 
Park there is a group of lakes as lovely as any in the 
Rockies, but they are accessible only by pony-trail and 
so they are little known. These are the Kananaskis 
Lakes, lying high in the mountains at the headwaters 
of the Kananaskis River, and shut in on all sides by 
lofty mountain ranges. | 

High on the slopes of the mountains, near the Con- 
tinental Divide, lies a long, winding, silver-green lake 
which some appreciative soul has named Marvel. Be- 
yond Marvel Lake, it is only fitting that Wonder Pass 
should lead to the amazingly spectacular Mount Assini- 
boine, which stands on the boundary-line between Al- 
berta and British Columbia, its snow-covered, pyra- 
midal peak reaching into the soft blue vault overhead. 
The setting of Mount Assiniboine alone is superb, with 
lesser peaks—ten thousand or more feet high—them- 
selves snow-draped and exquisite, crowding around 
to do homage to the mightier god in their midst. 
Adorning the cuplike valleys are glacial lakelets, lying 





Courtesy, Canadian Pacific 


IN WATERTON LAKES NATIONAL PARK 
The Indians fear this cliff because of the many faces weather- 
sculptured in the rock. 





nm ties 





Courtesy, Canadian Pacific 


MOUNT ASSINIBOINE 
This striking peak, 11,870 feet high, is called “the Matterhorn of 
America.” 


LOVELY ALBERTA 229 


like bits of crystal indigo, in meadows abloom with 
red and white lilies. 


“I know a lake among the hills 
So deeply blue that one would fain surmise 
*Twere nothing but a bit of fallen skies, 
Or hollow where the summer noonday spills 
Its fluent azure as it idly wills.” 


Rocky Mountains Park means to many but two 
things: Banff and Lake Louise. 

The palatial Banff Springs Hotel, commanding a 
view of Bow Valley and the towering mountains that 
shut it in, set in the midst of pine forests high above 
the confluence of the Bow River and the Spray, has 
become as much a part of the Banff region as are the 
mountains, the river-valleys, the waterfalls and the 
rugged canyons. It is the Mecca of all travelers to 
Rocky Mountains Park, for it lies in the heart of 
beauty and interest. Not the least of its attractions are 
the enticing motor-roads which radiate from it, the 
luring bridle-paths that climb up through scented for- 
ests and dip down into the deep valleys, the beckoning 
trails that wander away from the motor-roads and the 
pony-paths and disclose beauty hidden from those who 
cling to the highways. 

At the foot of the hotel, Bow River tumbles over 
a wide precipice in a fall that, while not very high, 
lacks nothing in spectacular beauty. The river leaves 
the foot of the cataract apparently much pleased that 
by this thunderous and showy fall it attracts the 


230 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


attention of the visitor from the magnificence of the 
mountains to its own lowly loveliness. And at this 
point, while the Bow is still mad with delight, Spray 
River comes to join it, dashing and whirling and spray- 
ing its water as if it, too, would claim some of the 
admiration bestowed upon purple-gray mountains and 
foaming falls. ‘The river then goes rollicking down 
the Bow Valley; and wild-flowers that crowd out of 
the forests are no more gay than the multicolored 
rocks, from pebble-size to boulder, that edge the river 
with a gaudy beach. 

Where Bow River runs with more dignity, and the 
waters are quiet enough to reflect, the symmetrically 
lovely peaks of Mount Rundle form a pyramid above 
and a duplicated pyramid below. This mountain was 
named for a Wesleyan missionary to the Crees and 
the Assiniboines. He probably was the first white man 
to reach the Banff region, and the Crees who then were 
camped there were both amazed and curious. They 
asked their medicine-man where he came from. The 
conjurer built a devil-fire, danced about it with weird 
incantations, then told them that the little man had 
dropped directly down from Heaven wrapped in a 
piece of paper. Paper proved as great a curiosity to 
the Crees as did the white man himself. 

Opposite the peaks of Mount Rundle, Tunnel Moun- 
tain lifts its forested slopes, beckoning to the visitor 
to journey up its pleasant road and enjoy the mag- 
nificent view from its summit. 

Sulphur Mountain, rising above Spray River, claims 


LOVELY ALBERTA 231 


first attention in the Banff district; for it was because 
of the hot sulphur springs on the slopes of this moun- 
tain that the region attracted attention and was made 
a National Park in 1885. 

The Banff Springs Hotel has its own sulphur pool, 
where one may bathe luxuriously; but there is greater 
delight in bathing at the “Cave and Basin” on the 
slopes of the mountain. The Cave has been formed 
from the cone of a quiescent geyser where the hot sul- 
phur-water, rich also in other properties, and radio- 
active, still bubbles up sufficiently to form a deep pool. 
The Basin, nearby, is a similar hot sulphur-water pool, 
with the sky overhead instead of the sulphur-crystal 
roof of the Cave. 

‘The Upper Hot Springs lie still higher on the slopes 

of Sulphur Mountain; and there are attractive indoor 
and outdoor pools. The water here has a higher 
temperature and is slightly richer in mineral properties 
than the pools at the Cave and Basin. 

The, road leaving the Cave curves round the hills 
to Sundance Canyon, where the silver thread of Sun- 
dance Creek drops in a series of cascades, the forested 
walls rising above it for nearly two hundred feet. 
On the brink of this canyon the Indians were wont to 
hold their Sun Dance. 

Of the many delightful short trips that may be 
taken from Banff, the most scenic is to Lake Minne- 
wanka, which retains its Indian name meaning ‘“‘Devil- 
water.” This long, winding, exquisitely lovely lake lies 
in a curving valley, deep between the Palliser Range 


232 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


and the Fairholme. It curls softly about the foot of 
Mount Inglismaldie, with rugged rock walls sweeping 
up from the shore on one side, while on the other lies 
a flower-flaming meadow. 

At the eastern end of Lake Minnewanka a group 
of fantastic rocks, known as the Hoodoos and avoided 
by the Indians as devils, gave rise to one of the many 
legends that hover about the lake. These fearsome 
creatures, the Crees believed, were stone only when a 
human being looked upon them. In the dead of night 
they became devils. Two Indians, with curiosity greater 
than fear, wished to see these evil spirits come to 
life; so one moonlight night they crawled through the 
bushes until they could get a glimpse of the demons. 
The venturesome Indians never were seen again; but 
the tribe found, instead, two fierce little lakelets, which 
now lie not far away, the glistening eye of each staring 
eternally at the stone Hoodoos. 

An Assiniboine legend claims that a Fish Monster, 
a mile or more long, once lived in the depths of the 
lake; and the mountains on each side were formed 
from the earth he threw out of his way as he cleared 
a place below for his lodge. Minnewanka often is 
called Devil’s Lake. 

There is a scenic trail that skirts the shore of this 
lake, leads past the two fierce little lakelets, and winds 
on to Devil’s Gap and Ghost River. 

Banff and Lake Louise are connected both by rail- 
road and by a motor-road that is famed for its scenic 
beauty. From Lake Louise railroad station, the motor- 


LOVELY ALBERTA 233 


road winds up through a fragrant forest of lodgepole- 
pines, the tall straight trunks reminiscent of their use 
in the days before the white man came. Above the 
tops of the pines the dome of Mount Temple cuts in 
opal tints against a sky that is a pale green behind the 
peak and merges to deep indigo in the great bowl over- 
head. Should it be early morning, the road climbs 
through the clouds and emerges high above them. 

Across a singing brook; up a hill where wild bees 
swoop down to flowers that edge the highway; around 
a bend—and the glory of Lake Louise bursts suddenly 
into view. 

The water is a startling green, a violent, intense 
green, and so unrippled that glacier and snow-wall, 
forests and rock-mountains, are reflected as in a mir- 
ror. At the far end rises a snow-white wall, triangle- 
shaped as forested slopes on both sides frame it, its 
apex a dazzling, lucent-blue glacier reaching into the 
lake, the upper slopes massed snow. Rising on each 
side of the lake are precipitous mountains, pine and 
spruce forests climbing from the water to timberline, 
bare and magnificent rock and snow and ice beyond. At 
the near end of the lake, on a sloping meadow, is the 
Chateau Lake Louise with its beautiful grounds; this 
is the only open space. The water reaches back about 
a mile and a half to the glacier, and is about a half- 
mile broad. 

Only under a bright noonday sun is the lake wholly 
green; it constantly changes its color as the light varies. 
With the first slanting of the rays, purple begins to 


234 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


creep over the surface of the water; and as the shad- 
ows intensify, the lake becomes olive, amethyst, violet, 
magenta, purple-blue which near the shore turns to 
deep indigo. As if that were not enough, fleecy cloud- 
masses, puffs of white and smoke-blue, hover above the 
lake and send their reflections down softly to the water. 
On a gray day the lake is an exquisite apple-green 
tinged with magenta near the shore. In the delicate 
beauty of its coloring and in the haunting loveliness 
of its setting, no lake can compare with this marvel 
of the Canadian Rockies, cupped in its mountain walls, 
glowing at the foot of its radiant glacier. 

The ice-mass, hundreds of feet thick, that gives 
Lake Louise its spectacular beauty is Victoria Glacier, 
clinging to the base of Mount Victoria. Standing be- 
side this wall of dazzling white and purple-blue is 
Mount Lefroy, more than eleven thousand feet high, 
its base buried in the glacier, its summit a dome of ice. 

A thousand or more feet almost directly above Lake 
Louise are two little glacial gems known as the Lakes 
in the Clouds. From the brink of the higher of these, 
Lake Agnes, a superb panorama of lakes and moun- 
tains, of snowpeaks and glaciers, and the curving Bow 
Valley, is to be had. A pony-trail, leaving Chateau 
Lake Louise, dips at once into the pine-forest and 
climbs ever up and up, affording at almost every point 
a magnificent view, framed by the shaggy branches of 
pine or spruce or hemlock. 

Mirror Lake, the lower of the two Lakes in the 
Clouds, lies in a bowl in the hills, shut in by forests, 


LOVELY ALBERTA 235 


so protected that no breath of air ruffles its surface of 
glassy, peacock-green, and trees and mountain-walls are 
reflected in exquisite detail. 

Still higher, and almost atop the world, is Lake 
Agnes; yet sheer rock walls rise to stupendous heights 
even above this lake. Lake Agnes, too, lies green and 
unrippled, protected from vagrant winds by its horse- 
shoe walls. One end of the lake has been left open, 
and here the water spills over a wide rock-ledge, 
forming a delicate and beautiful fall appropriately 
named Bridal Veil. The sunrise panorama from the 
ledge of Bridal Veil Falls, while the sky merges from 
the haze-lavender of dawn to a sea of color-drenched 
clouds, is so enthralling that one can leave it only by 
the knowledge that on the downtrail a far more sub- 
lime view awaits. This is of Lake Louise, seen through 
the clouds that are aglow with sunrise flame. The 
morning-purple water has an ethereal loveliness, viewed 
from this height and through floating mist, that lingers 
only until the clouds lift and the water begins to take 
on its shades of green. 

A delightful trail from Lake Louise leads over the 
Saddleback, a high ridge between two peaks, to Para- 
dise Valley. This broad stretch of creek-meadow, ly- 
ing in the shadow of Mount Temple, is so thickly 
carpeted with flowers that there is scarcely room for 
the trail to wander through, or for the gay little Para- 
dise Creek to laugh its way down, chuckling aloud at 
every boulder it sprays, every rocky ledge it dodges 
or tumbles over. Lake Annette, in this valley, is so 


236 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


sparkling-green that it might be an emerald, set in the 
gold of yellow flowers. 

Beyond Paradise Valley is the superb Valley of the 
Ten Peaks, with the grandeur of rugged rock-masses, 
glaciers and eternal snow. A scenic motor-road con- 
nects the Valley of the Ten Peaks with Lake Louise. 

These Peaks, all reaching to more than ten thousand 
feet in height, rise in a spectacular semi-circle, snow 
draping them, glaciers sprawling in their hollows and 
spilling down the valleys. At the base of this majestic 
amphitheater lies Moraine Lake, fed by the glaciers, 
reflecting in all their colorful detail the peaks that 
rise to stupendous height above the water. A pine 
forest runs along one shore of the lake, the trees adding 
their somber green to the water in ragged reflections. 
The Tower of Babel, a mighty mass of striated yellow 
and red and gray rock, occupies a commanding position 
at the foot of the lake. 

Hidden away behind the Tower of Babel, in a little 
flower-scattered valley of its own, is a bit of lake 
called Consolation; and beyond that, and almost ad- 
joining it, its replica is known as Desolation. Anglers 
are enthusiastic about these two small lakes because 
of their Dolly Varden, rainbow, and cut-throat trout; 
to lovers of scenic beauty they are exquisite little moun- 
tain gems, all the more precious for being tucked away 
in a hidden valley. 

Wherever one may go, ever the return is to Lake 
Louise. | 

The Chateau Lake Louise claims attention, as one 





4 am: 
* 3 
ms cs ce 


Pheto., Leonard Frank 


LAKE LOUISE 
Snow and glacier, forests and yellow rock, are duplicated softly in 
the bright-green water. 





Photo., Paul Thompson 


THE MOTOR-ROAD TO MORAINE LAKE 
The touring car is dwarfed by the stupendous uplift of the mountains. 


LOVELY ALBERTA 237 


of the famous hotels of the world. Attractive in archi- 
tecture, its rooms commanding magnificent views out 
over the lake and the mountains, its lobby the meeting- 
place of all nationals, interest as well as beauty is to 
be found here. Spilling down the terraces between the 
Chateau and the lake are masses of poppies, white 
and yellow, red and deep orange; and scattered along 
the pine-fragrant roads are poppies. These bright 
blossoms have become associated with Lake Louise. 
They are brave little flowers, flaunting their gay petals 
undiscouraged, yet knowing that never can they equal 
in vivid beauty, in startling loveliness, the colors that 
come and go in Lake Louise. 

The Stoneys have a legend that the colors in this 
lake came from a shattered rainbow. When the world 
was very young, they say, giants peopled the earth. 
A certain giant-chief who was a famous hunter was 
never satisfied with the number of animal-monsters 
killed by his arrows or caught in his snares. One day 
he saw the rainbow in the sky, and the more he watched 
it the more he believed it would make him a magic 
bow. Climbing the tallest tree on earth, he tore the 
rainbow from its place; but where he grasped it the 
colors melted, and in anger the giant dashed the rain- 
bow against the nearest rocky peak. And so it fell, 
shattered, to the bottom of Lake Louise, and gave of 
its colors to the water. The gods of the elements then 
made another arch to hold up the sky when it rained. 

A few miles west of Lake Louise is the Continental 
Divide, forming the boundary between Alberta and 


238 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


British Columbia and at the same time between Rocky 
Mountains National Park and Yoho National Park. 
Here the Canadian Pacific Railway crosses the Rockies, 
through the famous Kicking Horse Pass, lingering for 
a few delightful moments on the very summit, at the 
“Great Divide.” 

Alberta is rich in agricultural possibilities, for with 
widely varied altitude, soil and climatic conditions, al- 
most anything may be grown. Yet field-crops are but 
one of her wealth-producing industries. Stock-raising 
and dairying amount to nearly a quarter of a billion 
dollars annually; manufactures run up to a hundred 
million; timber, pulpwood, furs, natural gas, oil, min- 
erals, all give of their riches and are in enormous 
reserve. Coal, alone, is there in such immense de- 
posits that one-seventh of the world’s entire supply, 
geologists estimate, underlies this rich province; in 
all of southern Alberta coal is being mined extensively. 

Alberta’s vast areas of grazing lands that are yet 
unclaimed; the wealth of timber and pulpwood ad- 
joining available water-power; the oil production, 
which as yet is but in its infancy—these will call to 
the commercially inclined. But to the visitor passing 
through, or to the fortunate vacationist who may linger, 
Alberta has an even greater wealth in scenic beauty. 

Some may prefer the gay loveliness of her prairies, 
flower-scattered and sun-bright; others will like the rich 
and somber beauty of her forests; all will glory in the 
grandeur of her glaciers and the majesty of her snow- 
draped mountains. The wild animals—buffalo, bear, 


LOVELY ALBERTA 239 


caribou, elk, down to the tiny chipmunk—add their 
interest; and especially is the province rich in bird 
life, from the lordly Canada goose, the great blue 
heron and the eagle, through a very wide range, to 
the lowly bobolink and meadowlark that keep the 
prairies gay with song. 


“The busy larke, messager of daye, 

Salueth in hire song the morwe graye; 

And fyry Phebus ryseth up so brighte, 

That al the orient laugheth of the lighte.” 





IX. BRITISH COLUMBIA’S GRANDEUR 


Youo NATIONAL PARK 

THE Roap TO EMERALD LAKE 
TAKAKKAW FALLS 

THE LEGEND OF TWIN FALLS 
KooTreNAY NATIONAL PARK 
THE BEAUTIFUL COLUMBIA 
A LEGEND OF ARROW LAKES 
‘THE KoOoTENAY COUNTRY 
GLACIER NATIONAL PARK 
REVELSTOKE NATIONAL PARK 
THE OKANAGAN COUNTRY 
THompson River CANYONS 
THE MIGHTY FRASER 

Carisoo GOLD 

THE LILLIOOET COUNTRY 

A LEGEND OF MounT GARIBALDI 
VANCOUVER, THE METROPOLIS 
On VANCOUVER IsLAND 
LovELY VICTORIA 

LEGENDS OF THE QUEEN CHARLOTTE ISLANDS 
_ THE SUPERB COAST 

THE CITY OF PRINCE RUPERT 
ALONG THE SKEENA 
TTOTEM-POLES AT KITWANGA 
THE BULKLEY VALLEY 

AT PRINCE GEORGE 

MounT Rosson Park 

THE LEGEND OF WHITEHORN 
THE GREAT ATLIN DISTRICT 











| } A us ; if 4 x) 
Te ihe AY eth *) LAE 
wie? ats A RUN 4 i 
] if a py Ry 


4S a hy | 

| : he 4 

? » A Natt dale f 
i 4 


: Tee here fr , ep ; 


ai 


i \ iL 
Ruy 


Went UE OM POR ‘ 


ee VoL A 


IX 
BRITISH COLUMBIA’S GRANDEUR 


“Farther than vision ranges, 
Farther than eagles fly, 
Stretches the land of beauty, 
Arches the perfect sky, 
Hemmed through the purple mists afar 
By peaks that gleam like star on star.” 
—Pauline Johnson 


RITISH COLUMBIA is today proud of the 
epithet once hurled at her in disdain—‘‘a sea 
of mountains.” And well she might be. For 

because of those mountains no province in the Domin- 
ion can compare with her in richness of scenic beauty, 
in the grandeur of her high-swung valleys, in the maj- 
esty of her snow-peaks and glaciers and deep fjords. 
The Rocky Mountains on the eastern boundary and the 
Coast Range on the west would themselves form ‘‘a 
sea of mountains”; and between these two, other great 
ranges or isolated collections of peaks swing through 
the broad and high valley from the United States to 
Yukon. 

About three miles west of the Great Divide, where 
the railroad crosses the Rockies and enters Yoho Na- 
tional Park, the apple-green waters of Lake Wapta 
attract attention by the loveliness of their unusual 

243 


244 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


color. A faint breeze that sweeps down the valley 
keeps the water ruffled, and under bright sunshine the 
lake is all pale apple-green speckled with silver. Trails 
wind away from the lake, leading through spruce- 
fragrant forests and ending always at delightful places. 
One of these scented paths climbs three miles to Sher- 
brooke Lake, which lies high in the mountains, in a 
rock-valley between towering peaks. 

Another trail, in the opposite direction, winds up- 
ward the full length of Cataract Brook, which tumbles 
and foams its way down the mountain in one lacy 
cascade after another. High above, the little brook 
has its source in Lake O’Hara, and to this enchanting 
spot the trail leads. Even Lake Louise, with all its 
charm, cannot compare, in delicate loveliness, with this 
small body of water which lies nearly seven thousand 
feet above sea-level. Lodgepole-pines, spruce and other 
shaggy trees fringe the lake, crowding about the shore, 
drooping their branches over the water. Boulders and 
pebbles add touches of yellow and red; and between 
the rocks and the trees, lilies, lupines, and red and pink 
heather run in from the meadows to crowd down to 
the water, spattering the ground with color. Encircling 
the lake and the forest-fringe, snow-draped mountains 
rise sheer from two to five thousand feet, folding to- 
gether, then falling away to reveal the ineffable love- 
liness of Mount Victoria. And beyond Mount Vic- 
toria, where the eye may not reach, Lake Louise lies 
at the base of Victoria Glacier. 

A short distance from Lake O’Hara, along a wind- 


BRITISH COLUMBIA’S GRANDEUR 245 


ing trail that leads up through the forest, Ice Lake, 
Lake Oéesa, lies frozen for eleven months of the year. 
Mount Yukness, towering two thousand feet directly 
above the little lake, shuts off the warm sun from the 
south, while cold north winds sweep down from Ab- 
bot’s Pass. Indians avoided Lake Oesa with super- 
stitious dread; for the wind moaning through the trees 
and the grinding noise of the ice as it breaks up in 
late July were to them the screams of departed crim- 
inals tortured by the Underwater-people. 

Even more fearful to them was the crunching noise 
of the icebergs in Lake McArthur, which lies a few 
miles south of Lake O’Hara and is one of the largest 
and most spectacular lakes in Yoho Park. A huge 
glacier feeds this lake, and as it grinds its way down 
the rocky slope it constantly throws off cakes of ice 
which float about in the water. As one of these minia- 
ture icebergs strikes another, scraping against it in 
passing, it produces a weird moaning, almost a wail, 
which well might be taken for the groaning of tor- 
mented spirits. To the white man, however, Lake 
McArthur is wholly magnificent. Lying high above 
timberline, its vivid blue water flecked with ragged 
ice-cakes, its encircling walls of rock rising three thou- 
sand feet, splashed with snow-masses and glaciers, the 
sheer immenseness of the scenery is sublime. 

From Lake Oesa a trail leads up, through the rugged 
grandeur of a world all snow and rock, to Abbot’s 
Pass over the Bow Range. A superb panorama is to 
be had here—out over vast icefields and snow-covered 


246 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


peaks, glacier-cut valleys, and mountain lakes lying 
high in rock-bowls. To the northeast, and two thou- 
sand or more feet below, a glistening sheet of emerald 
‘and purple is Lake Louise; far off to the northwest 
a winding ribbon of dull-silver is the Kicking Horse 
River, making its way through its tortuous valley. 
“One of our pack-horses,”’ wrote Sir James Hector, 
the discoverer of the Kicking Horse Pass, “‘to escape 
the falling timber, plunged into a stream. ... In 
attempting to reach my own horse, which had strayed 
off while we were engaged with the one in the water, 
he kicked me in the chest.’’ And from this incident 
the Kicking Horse River received its strange name. 
Curiously enough, on the face of a cliff, high above 
the olive-yellow water, there is an outline of a spirited 
horse, with its faintly discernible rider. This, the fan- 
ciful claim, is the ghost-picture of Hector and his steed, 
come back to haunt the pass which they discovered. 
The Kicking Horse begins its erratic course in Lake 
Wapta. It flows along pleasantly enough through the 
broad valley, dropping ever downward in frothing 
cascades, until, with one grand leap, it dashes into 
the Yoho. To this point the Kicking Horse has been 
crystal-clear; but now it receives the color as well as 
the water of the glacier-fed Yoho. At times pale 
olive, in its deeper moments almost ocher, it rushes 
down through Kicking Horse Canyon, spreading it- 
self out, as it goes, over a wide bed of rocks and mud- 
flats. Here the river wanders crazily, picking and 
choosing, and ever changing, its many channels, carv- 





1 


n IHarmo 


Byreo 


Photo., 


OHOPVALLEY 


r 


y 
the 


FALLS 


KAKKAW 


A 
of 


14 
op 


e 


“b 


Is supe! 


. 


HE F 


re 
< 


ite We 


y-whi 


spra 


’ 


feet 


1 thousand 


« 
« 


di 


a sheer 


In 





Courtesy, Canadian Pacific 


A ROCKY GIANT IN YOHO PARK 
Under the towering bulk of Mt. Stephen, Field lies like a toy village, 
with the Kicking Horse River flowing crazily by. 


BRITISH COLUMBIA’S GRANDEUR 247 


ing out many miniature canyons and a curious natural 
bridge. After it receives the water of the Ottertail 
it becomes less erratic but no less impetuous, as it 
rushes on, eventually to join the Columbia. 

Clinging to the bank of the Kicking Horse River 
is the tourist-important town of Field; and towering 
high above it the immense bulk of Mount Stephen 
rises almost sheer for nearly a mile and a quarter, 
its summit far up in the clouds. High on the face of 
this giant peak, so high and so steep that one might 
believe only an eagle could compass it, are silver and 
lead and zinc mines in active operation. On the other 
side of Mount Stephen a fascinating area of fossil 
beds attracts many visitors, especially as it lies on a 
scenic mountain trail which leads from Field to Lake 
O’Hara by way of Dennis Pass and Duchesnay Pass. 

Field is the starting-point to many snow-steeped 
mountains, many glacier-hung valleys, many lovely 
lakes, in Yoho National Park. An exquisitely scenic 
motor-road crosses the Kicking Horse and, clinging to 
the base of Mount Burgess, follows along the turbu- 
lent river almost to its natural bridge, and then turns 
and climbs upward through dense spruce and pine and 
balsam forests to Emerald Lake. Much of this forest 
road, extending on and on between tall straight trees, 
is like a green and fragrant canyon. Above and be- 
yond the trees on both sides a rugged silhouette of ice 
and snow and bare gray rock lifts against the sky; 
while far ahead one snow-whitened peak, symmetric 
and lovely, adds its touch of grandeur. 


248 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


“T know a mountain thrilling to the stars, 
Peerless and pure, and pinnacled with snow; 
Glimpsing the golden dawn o’er coral bars, 
Flaunting the vanisht sunset’s garnet glow.” 


Even in the name of Emerald Lake there is beauty. 
Irregular in shape and a startling green in color, this 
lovely mountain jewel lies in a hanging valley at the 
base of Mount Wapta and is all but shut in by huge 
masses -of rock and spraddling glaciers. Dense, dark- 
green forests crowd down to the edge of the lake, re- 
flecting in the cool depths shadow-forests, upside down, 
and extend backward up the steep mountain walls to 
timberline. Snow-fed streams, falling from great 
heights, rush down through the forests, to end in a bit 
of white foam that scarcely flecks the green of the 
lake. The changing shades of this green—ranging 
from a pale pearl-green, through brilliant emerald, to 
a dark hemlock—is one of Emerald Lake’s greatest 
charms. | 

This jewel lake lies in the heart of forests. One 
of the trails radiating from it climbs steeply up a 
mountain wall to Summit Lake; then drops abruptly, 
ever through fragrant pine and spruce, crossing bits of 
frothy streams, lingering irresistibly beside the Sing- 
ing Water Falls, where a mountain brook leaps down 
a broad rock stairway, singing cheerily as it zigzags 
its course from step to step. Then on and down the 
trail drops; until suddenly there is an opening in the 
forest, and far off across the Yoho Valley an im- 


BRITISH COLUMBIA’S GRANDEUR 249 


mensity of snowfields and glaciers, and the unbelievable 
loveliness of Takakkaw Falls, leap into view. The 
trail hastens down, then, to reach the alpine meadow 
and the bit of wooded river-bank that lie at the foot 
of this stupendous fall. 

Somewhere in the almost illimitable snowfields that 
lie between Mount Niles and Mount Balfour the little 
stream that ends in the glory of Takakkaw Falls has 
its source. Gaining in volume as it rushes on, its sheer 
force grinding a canyon through the massed snow and 
ice and rock, it comes suddenly out upon a precipice 
and dashes over, falling into a rock-bowl one hundred 
and fifty feet below. That is merely the beginning. 
Hesitating a moment, it then takes its tremendous 
leap of a thousand feet down the sheer face of the 
cliff. Clouds of spray and mist whirl up; the wind- 
blown water above is white with spray. Out of the 
churning foam at the foot of the great fall the water 
once more gathers its: forces and drops five hundred 
feet, but more gradually, to the waiting Yoho. 

The delicate loveliness of Takakkaw, as the wind 
tosses the falling water, changing it to dancing spray, 
rainbow-tinted and exquisite, seems far removed from 
the thunderous noise which reverberates down the val- 
ley, roaring the might of this rushing, thousand-foot 
fall. The contrast makes it all the more fascinating. 
It is superbly beautiful, lacy white against the rugged 
cliff; and a wholly unique feature is a broad rainbow 
which slants across the water, each color nearly a 
hundred feet high. Countless rainbows come and go 


250 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


in the whirling spray, and add to the glowing beauty 
of the cataract which the poetic Indians could only 
call Takakkaw, ‘‘Wonderful!’ Some, however, say 
that its name means ‘“The-place-where-the-old-man- 
caught-the-big-fish.”’ 

A trail of great scenic grandeur, beginning at Tak- 
akkaw Falls, leads up beside the Yoho River to Yoho 
Glacier, which spreads in a cascade of milk-green ice 
across the head of the valley. Beyond lies the Wa- 
putik Icefield, thirty square miles of dazzling resplen- 
dence—eternal ice and snow. ‘This trail through the 
upper Yoho Valley passes Laughing Falls, whose tink- 
ling water echoes gaily down the valley; and, still 
higher, the spectacular Twin Falls. Here the river, 
dashing against a rock-slab, separates for its tumble 
over the precipice and meets again in the mist and 
spray nearly five hundred feet below. 

The Shuswap name for this twin cataract was 
‘“Where-goose-feathers-fall.”” Long ago, the legend 
states, a chief and his beautiful daughter were camped 
in the valley nearby, and from far and near braves 
came to woo the maiden. ‘This pleased the chief, for 
above all else he wanted a grandson. But the maiden 
would have none of her suitors; and when the chief 
raged she at last consented to wed the brave who would 
bring her enough white-goose feathers to make her a 
robe. On the plateau high above the valley, myriads 
of white geese had their nesting, and a dozen young 
braves climbed up the rock and straightway fell upon 
the geese, plucking them rapidly and placing the feath- 


BRITISH COLUMBIA’S GRANDEUR 251 


ers beside them. But the heartless maiden had secretly 
sought the aid of the Water Demon; and the feathers 
piled at the edge of the cliff went flying over the preci- 
pice, not as white-goose feathers but as feathery foam 
and spray which fell to the bottom and raced off down 
the valley in a gurgling stream. Two of the braves, 
still hoping for the maiden, sit there to this day, pluck- 
ing the geese as fast as they can, feeding the feathery 
columns that are now known as the Twin Falls. In the 
winter, when the water columns dwindle, the white man 
thinks it is because there is ice above; but the Shuswap 
knows it is only that the fingers of the two men grow 
cold and so the feathers are plucked more slowly. 

The Yoho Valley is reached from the town of Field 
by a motor-road which clings to the bank of the Kicking 
Horse, the river and the road shut into a deep canyon 
by the towering masses of Mount Burgess and Mount 
Field on one side and Mount Stephen on the other. 
Curving about the foot of Mount Field, the scenic 
road climbs up the Yoho Valley, following closely, for 
much of its course, the picturesque Yoho River. On 
one side is the water, lemon-yellow, racing madly; 
across the water, rising sheer above a narrow fringe 
of pines, are the red and yellow cliffs of Yoho Canyon. 
On the other side of the road, dense pine-forests run 
straight upward to timberline. 

One of the most fascinating sights in the Rockies lies 
on this road up the Yoho Valley. It is the Yoho 
Rapids. The river, having cut a canyon for itself 
through all the many miles, here apparently goes mad 


252 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


with delight that it so soon is to join the Kicking 
Horse. It boils and seethes and roars, it dashes fran- 
tically at upcropping boulders, it leaps back and churns 
and froths, all the while whirling on in a tremendous 
rush downward. The Yoho River at this point is 
magnificent. 

For one with steady nerves, the Burgess Pass route 
between Yoho and Field will leave memories of scenes 
of utter grandeur and sublimity. There is only a nar- 
row trail, and at times it leads along breath-suspending 
ledges, with a sheer drop of from one to three thousand 
feet; but it affords a panorama that is wholly unfor- 
gettable. A billowing sea of mountain ranges is spread 
out, extending to the far-off lavender horizon—miles of 
creeping glaciers, of purple-shadowed snow and scintil- 
lant ice, of hanging valleys, of emerald lakes, of forests 
so far below that they are but splotches of black topped 
by the purple and blue and amethyst of the upper world 
of snow and ice and rock. And when the sun touches 
the mountain-peaks, gilding them, the majestic gran- 
deur of these far heights stirs one to the very depths 
of emotion. 

The trail is a thousand feet or more above timber- 
line, and the silence is intense; so gripping, so all- 
enveloping, that it becomes almost tangible. There can 
be no murmuring of tree-tops, no flight of small birds; 
only occasionally an eagle will swoop up, disturbed 
in its bath in a pool of melted snow, and wing its 
way to some aerie in a far-off rock-mass. 

Before Sir James Hector discovered the Kicking 





Courtesy, Canadian Pacific 


IN. KOOTENAY NATIONAL PARK 
The Vermilion River has many fine stretches which lure motorists 
to linger. 





, 


seiete meas he Ese are 
Courtesy, Kelowna Board of Trade 


WHERE THE PORTAGE BEGINS 
Bear Creek, near Kelowna, is in the heart of the Okanagan Country. 


BRITISH COLUMBIA'S GRANDEUR 253 


Horse Pass he crossed from Bow Valley, in 1858, 
through ‘‘a wide notch in the mountains” which he 
named Vermilion Pass. Already this route was known 
to the Indians, for they used it in crossing to the 
‘‘paint-pots’”’ to collect the ocher and vermilion mud 
from which they made war-paint much in demand by 
the Blackfeet and other tribes to the south, and ex- 
changeable for tobacco. Hector dropped down the 
western slope and pitched his “‘little leather wigwam”’ 
in a flower-starred meadow near the confluence of the 
Vermilion and the Kootenay Rivers; and there he re- 
corded in his diary that this route through the Rockies 
was “the most favorable and inexpensive to render 
available for wheeled conveyances.” 

More than a half-century passed before his sugges- 
tion was adopted; and in 1923 the Banff-Windermere 
Highway was opened, and almost at once leaped into 
fame as one of the great scenic motor-roads through 
the Rockies. On each side of the highway, Kootenay 
National Park has been created. It adjoins Rocky 
Mountains Park, where the highway has its beginning 
at Banfi. Sweeping up Bow Valley to the rock-mass 
of Castle Mountain, the road turns and climbs to 
Vermilion Pass, then drops down the Vermilion River 
valley, dips through the spectacular Sinclair Canyon 
and joins the Columbia River Highway—often called 
the Golden Highway—to Lake Windermere. 

This lake and its twin, Columbia Lake, are delight- 
fully situated in a deep and winding valley, with the 
Rockies rising on one side and the Selkirks on the 


254 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


other. Because of the charm of their location and 
their many attractions, these lakes are becoming 
increasingly popular as summering-places. David 
Thompson discovered them and named them both 
Kootenai. While in this neighborhood he had much 
trouble with thieving Indians. ‘‘We perceived a small 
Kettle and one of our best Horses had been stolen by 
a young Man,” he recorded one day. ‘In the evening 
we camped, and two Indians came to us and staid all 
Night. Early in the Morning I sent two Men with the 
two Indians who guided the Men to the Tent (of the 
thief) but did nothing more. The Men made him give 
up the Horse and the Kettle—and gave him a few 
Kicks to disgrace him.” 

A trail along the east shore of Columbia Lake leads 
to a group of rocks containing prehistoric picture- 
writing. On one of these an Indian battle is shown; 
and Indians of today avoid the place with the utmost 
dread, for the spirits of those killed in the battle are 
still there, they say, fighting ceaselessly. Sometimes 
these ghost-warriors assume their human form, but 
usually they are mere wraiths of white floating through 
the tree-tops—like wisps of mist lifted from off the 
lake. 

Columbia Lake is the beginning of the great Colum- 
bia River, which covers nearly a thousand miles, wholly 
erratic in its course, and always beautiful, ending at 
last in the Pacific, between Oregon and Washington. 
From its source the river travels leisurely northwest- 
ward through a wide and lovely valley, journeying 


BRITISH COLUMBIA’S GRANDEUR 255 


the full length of the Selkirks before it curves round 
the northernmost limit of this range and turns directly 
south again, skirting the western spurs of the range. 
When it reaches a pleasant valley it broadens into the 
Arrow Lakes, which wind down, between far-off moun- 
tains, for about a hundred miles. 

In the long ago, when the Shuswaps camped beside 
the Arrow Lakes, the shores were densely timbered, 
and many animals roamed through the forests. And 
long before “the days of people,’ a Shuswap legend 
states, these two lakes were but one. Black Bear lived 
at the south end. At the north end Grizzly built his 
lodge. The one long lake was filled with fish; berries 
grew on the banks; and wild bees gave an abundance 
of honey. But the Black Bear-people and the Grizzly- 
people were always quarreling about the choicest fish 
or the ripest berries or the sweetest honey, and at last 
Grizzly asked North Wind to blow away Black Bear’s 
tepees, so he might have the lake to himself; but that 
same day Black Bear asked Chinook to blow Grizzly’s 
lodges away. North Wind came howling down the 
valley, and Chinook came roaring up, and they met 
in the middle, just above the water. Their breath 
began to blow the lake away, and when they grew tired 
of their battle and flew off, the middle of the lake 
was gone, there was only a stretch of dry land there. 
And to this very day the Arrow Lakes would be un- 
connected had not the Beaver-people come and dug 
the great waterpath between them so they could float 


256 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


down logs from Grizzly’s lake to build their lodges 
on Black Bear’s lake. 

Where formerly there were forests and wigwams 
and campfires, today there are beautiful orchards, 
homesteads and well-cultivated gardens; for the Co- 
lumbia Valley has been transformed from primeval 
forests into pleasant ranches. Much of the wild beauty 
must ever remain, however. The lakes are still as 
broad and as blue and as lovely; the waterfalls that 
pour into the lakes over cliffs of rugged rock are as 
white and as musical; the dark-green trees fringing 
the shores are the same shaggy conifers the Indians 
knew; and, across the valley, the same mountains lift 
their snow-covered summits in eternal glory. 

From Lower Arrow Lake the Columbia River fol- 
lows a tortuous route to the international boundary, 
much of it shut in by mountains and wild gorges; and 
after it crosses into Washington it cuts its way through 
the Cascade Range in stupendous canyons, with walls 
from two to five thousand feet high, dropping down 
then to flow more sedately onward to the sea. 

Back where the upper waters of this great river 
flow northward, in its valley between the Selkirks and 
the Rockies, the Kootenay parallels it running south- 
ward. At Columbia Lake the two rivers almost come 
together; but the Kootenay has yet a long journey 
to go. It hurries away, down through the famous 
Kootenay country, across into Montana and Idaho, 
and then it rushes back again into Canada, to broaden 
out into the great Kootenay Lake; and there, after all 


BRITISH COLUMBIA’S GRANDEUR 257 


its wearisome travelings, it sends an arm across to 
join the Columbia. 

Charming landscapes are here, where water and 
woods, hills and spreading fruit-ranches delightfully 
mingle. In the very heart of this beauty is the city 
of Nelson, the metropolis of a rich mining district, 
an important railroad town, and a great motoring 
center. 

A few miles from Nelson, there is an interesting 
settlement of Doukhobors. These are charming 
people. They cling to their Russian customs and Rus- 
sian tongue and their Quaker beliefs, and live here 
in a little world all to themselves, busy with their 
ranching, deeply religious, and wholly contented. 

The Kootenay country is rich in Indian history. No 
such tobacco grew as on the Kootenay plains, no such 
willow-bark as along their streams, and there were no 
such horses as the Kootenays bred. ‘The Iroquois to 
the north made frequent raids. The Assiniboines to 
the east were on a continual scalp-hunt; for when an 
Assiniboine died he would have for slaves in the next 
world only those whose scalps he had taken in this 
life, and no Assiniboine wished to wander through the 
Hereafter without at least one slave to do his bidding. 
As great an annoyance to the Kootenays were the Black- 
feet and Piegans to the south; for the braves of these 
tribes believed that the test of a young man’s mettle 
lay in his ability as a horse-thief. Horse-stealing re- 
quired courage, caution, agility, great cunning; and the 
Piegan or the Blackfoot who returned with the largest 


258 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


number of Kootenay horses to his credit held the hon- 
ors of the tribe. 

The East Kootenay district, running upward to 
Crow’s Nest Pass, is noted for its immense coal de- 
posits—as well as for its magnificent scenery. West 
Kootenay, extending back to Arrow Lakes, has all the 
beauty of high mountains, timbered river valleys, soft 
blue lakes and cultivated farms and orchards. 

Kootenay Lake is one of many long, winding, su- 
perbly lovely lakes that lie in southern British Co- 
lumbia. Orchards and ranches and forests alternate 
here; and always the scenery is dominated by the 
silver-blue of the water. 

Glacier National Park lies north of Kootenay Lake, 
within the “peninsula”? formed by the bend of the 
Columbia River. This park, one of the earliest cre- 
ated, comprises the most magnificent stretch of the 
Selkirks, a wilderness of ice and snow and rugged 
rock, the valleys in between almost subtropical in their 
vegetation. ‘The outstanding features in Glacier Na- 
tional Park are Mount Sir Donald and the Lllecille- 
waet Glacier. 

The violet-gray summit of Mount Sir Donald cuts 
sharply against the sky at 10,808 feet. Other peaks— 
Mount Wheeler, Mount Selwyn, Hasler—are higher; 
but the isolated position of Mount Sir Donald, its mas- 
sive pyramidal summit, and the magnificent glaciers 
that cling to its cliffs and flow down toward the valleys, 
give it a majesty that makes it conspicuous even in this 
world of mighty grandeur. 


BRITISH COLUMBIA’S GRANDEUR 259 


South of Sir Donald lies an immense area of ice 
and snow known as the Illecillewaet Névé. But even 
the ten square miles is not enough room for this great 
névé, and it overflows into the valleys below. One of 
these overflows, a stupendous cascade of ice, 3,600 
feet high, is the [lecillewaet Glacier. It reaches down 
from the heights in a great corrugated mass, deeply 
crevassed, forming an almost perpendicular wall of 
ice. Dark-green trees crowd against it on both sides; 
and at the skyline the dazzling white and blue-green 
of the glacier cuts sharply against clear blue. 

The railway station at Glacier affords an excellent 
view of the great ice-mass, and even as seen from the 
train it is sublime; but the real majesty of the glacier 
can be known only by watching its changing colors 
throughout the day. 

Illecillewaet is Indian for “swift water’ and the 
name originated with the river which, born of the 
glacier, hurries westward through the Illecillewaet Val- 
ley, gathering as it goes many pearl-green streams 
from other glaciers, to pour the combined waters into 
the Columbia. 

Scarcely less notable, in Glacier Park, is the Asulkan 
Valley. Hemmed in by towering snowpeaks and gleam- 
ing fields of ice, watered by the tempestuous brook 
which cataracts down from the Asulkan Glacier, this 
valley is a place of sheer delight. Countless waterfalls 
dash down from the heights, with wild and tumultuous 
music; forests of hemlock and fir, stately and fragrant, 
run up the slopes; and wherever there is a bit of soil 


260 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


an alpine flower flashes vivid petals. The Asulkan 
Neve, high above the valley, is made weirdly spectac- 
ular by splotches of blood-red snow. When cloud- 
shadows pass, spreading a blanket of blue, the: red 
snow changes to bright purple. 

Asulkan is Indian for “wild goat,” and these pic- 
turesque creatures still frequent the inaccessible cliffs 
and crags of the high reaches. 

Another interesting valley in Glacier Park is that 
through which Cougar Creek cuts its way, forming, 
as it rushes underground, the unique Nakimu Caves. 
The little creek, racing down from Mount Cougar in 
one wild cascade after another, suddenly disappears, 
and when it emerges it has formed the Gopher Bridge 
series of caves. Rushing in great haste down a short 
rock-cut, it again disappears, this time beneath Mill 
Bridge—where the sound of the underground cataract 
is like the roar of a giant mill. Again the creek dashes 
madly out, races through a deep rock-gorge, sweeping 
beneath two natural bridges, and suddenly disappears, 
to form the third and largest of the series of caves. 

The Nakimu Caves, formerly known as the Caves 
of Cheops from being partly beneath Mount Cheops, 
are not like other caves. There are no stalactites or 
stalagmites, but strange passages cut by the rushing 
creek, great “potholes” made by the fury of a whirl- 
pool, weird openings, pitch-black, that lead to un- 
known depths where the mad rush of the water can 
be heard in a muffled roar. These “‘spirit noises’ gave 
the caves their Indian name, Nakimu. Many of the 





Photo., Leonard Frank 


RAINBOW FALLS 
Few falls are so exquisite as this lovely cataract in the forest near 
Harrison Lake. 





Courtesy, 


Where 








of the Interior, Canada 


Nese 
THE MEETING OF THE WATERS 
ulkan come together, in Glacier 





the Illecillewaet and the A 
National Park. 


BRITISH COLUMBIA’S GRANDEUR 261 


chambers are exquisitely beautiful from the calcium 
“flowers” which encrust their walls and ceilings. The 
fragile loveliness of these flowers and their delicate 
coloring give a fairy beauty that is in strange contrast 
to the demon-roar of the mad creek. 

Revelstoke National Park lies west of Glacier Park, 
and covers about two thousand acres. This park was 
created to preserve the beauty of Mount Revelstoke, 
which stands guard over ‘“‘the meeting of the waters” 
of the Illecillewaet and the Columbia. Forests of 
spruce and pine and hemlock cover the slopes of the 
mountain; alpine meadows are gay with wild-flowers; 
and quiet blue lakes lie tucked away in the woods or 
sparkle like sheets of glass in the open flower-meadows. 

West of Revelstoke a great area of forests and 
ranches, wild mountain creeks and broad and lovely 
lakes, spreads out through the undulating valley that 
extends westward to the Coast Range. Shuswap Lake 
sprawls irregular arms up and down many minor val- 
leys here. To the north, Lake Adams, wind-rippled 
and forest-fringed, lies between low mountain ridges; 
and far away to the south is the Okanagan country, 
far-famed for the beauty of its landscapes, its winding 
lakes, and its unsurpassed fruit. 

Okanagan Lake is seventy miles long, and many 
neighbor-lakes lie scattered about the wide valley. 
Trees or very high cliffs fringe the shores, wild-flowers 
spill down the cliffs and run back from the water; 
while fruit-orchards, tier upon tier, rise in terraces 
from the lake, the trees clouds of pink in the spring- 


262 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


time, sprinkled with red and gold and lush-purple in the 
fall. 

While this is a great ranching country, there are 
many delightful summer-resorts along the lakes. Lilt- 
ing sails are seen on Okanagan Lake all summer long, 
canoes go dipping by; motor-boats chug in the shadow 
of the big steamers that run from end to end of the 
valley-lake, from the important port of Okanagan 
Landing on the north to the great fruit center of 
Penticton on the south. ‘This steamer-ride through the 
winding, flower-scented valley is one that is full of 
delight. 

In the very heart of the Okanagan country, clinging 
to the lake, is Kelowna, a town as lovely as its name. 
This is a charming spot to linger, whether because of 
the fishing and boating and bathing the lake affords 
or because of the luring motor-roads and the woodsy 
trails that radiate from this important and hospitable 
little town. | 

Beyond the Okanagan country the Fraser River, 
having been joined by the spectacular Thompson River, 
turns westward to the sea. 

High up where the Gold Range rounds off its final 
peaks, the Thompson River begins serpentine windings 
down through a valley of canyons. From its mountain- 
source to its juncture with the Fraser there is a con- 
tinuous panorama of waterfalls, rapids, rushing tor- 
rents and deep and rugged gorges. At the Devil’s 
Boiling-Pot, known also as Little Hell’s Gate, the 
waters of the impetuous Thompson appear to be in the 


BRITISH COLUMBIA’S GRANDEUR 263 


utmost torment, boiling and seething and raging, as if 
indeed, as the Indians believe, the Evil Spirit were 
cooking criminals down below and their agonized 
writhing ceaselessly disturbs the water. The grandeur 
of this wild river may be seen from the railroad which 
follows it throughout its entire mad course, this Can- 
yon Route forming part of the famous Triangle Route. 
In a lonely spot north of the Devil’s Boiling-Pot the 
mysterious ‘“‘Headless Indian” was found by Milton 
and Cheadle and quaintly described in their book pub- 
lished nearly seventy-five years ago. Starvation had 
almost gripped these travelers, and while they brewed 
their tea of moss scraped from the rocks, their guide, 
“the Assiniboine,’ searched the forest for game or 
fish. After a long absence he returned and, produc- 
ing a marten, threw it down, saying dryly, ‘‘J’ai trouvé 
rien que cela et un homme—un mort.” Milton and 
Cheadle hastened at once “to look at the ominous 
spectacle,” which at last they found at the foot of a 
large pine. ‘“The corpse was in a sitting posture, with 
the legs crossed, and the arms clasped over the knees, 
bending forward over the ashes of a miserable fire of 
small sticks. The ghastly figure was headless. . 
Near the body were a small axe, fire-bag, large tin 
kettle, and two baskets made of birchbark. ... We 
walked back to the camp silent and full of thought.” 
The headless Indian, beset by starvation, had eaten 
his horse. Milton and Cheadle were brought to that 
strait the following day when their faithful and loved 
companion, ‘‘Blackie,” was led away where they could 


264 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


not see him and shot by the Assiniboine. The journal 
adds quaintly that although ‘‘Milton declared it tasted 
of the stable, none showed any deficiency of appetite.” 

The Fraser, the mightiest of the British Columbia 
rivers, named for Simon Fraser, has its source in two 
remote spots in the snow region surrounding Mount 
Robson, at the edge of Jasper National Park. Fed by 
many glacial streams and by creeks of melted snow, 
the Fraser curves about the northernmost limit of the 
Cariboo Range, and races through five hundred miles 
of some of the wildest and most rugged scenery in the 
West. Deep, narrow canyons are broken by superb 
waterfalls or by rushing creeks that cut through in 
transverse canyons. Furious rapids give way to cas- 
cades or to angry water crowded between high walls. 

In 1856 some one stumbled upon gold in the Cariboo 
Range—an immense region of mountains lying be- 
tween the Thompson and the Fraser Rivers. Once the 
news was out, a stampede began, and the Fraser, being 
the most direct route, became the scene of countless 
tragedies. Canoes, caught in the eddies, were dashed 
to pieces against the cliffs; and the impenetrable forests 
and undergrowth above proved as unfriendly as the 
swirling river below. 

These wild mountains of the Cariboo Range are 
especially beautiful. Many lonely lakes are shut in the 
forests. Quesnal Lake, an immense body of water 
spread out like a giant letter Y, sends Quesnal River 
dropping down a series of rock-ledges, hemmed in by 
forests, to the Fraser River. Farther south, the Fraser 


BRITISH COLUMBIA’S GRANDEUR 265 


receives the Chilcotin, with a rushing supply of water 
from the Coast Range on the west. Other creeks and 
rivers come racing down, and when the Fraser has 
received its greatest tributary, the Thompson, it be- 
comes a river indeed. But even now it loses little of 
its wild tempestuousness. Whirling down the Fraser 
Canyon, it passes through the curious rock formation 
known as Hell’s Gate, where, as an early explorer 
expressed it, “the Fraser goes utterly mad, and foams 
and rages down the narrow and falling channel.” 
Harrison Lake, giving its water to the Fraser, is 
but a broadening of the river which flows down through 
the lovely Lilliooet country 





“Where the mountain pass is narrow; and the torrent 
white and strong 
Down its rocky-throated canyon sings its golden- 
throated song.” 


West of the winding Lilliooet Lake, the Coast 
Range rises in serrated, snow-covered peaks, and drops 
precipitously to the fjords on the British Columbia 
coast. Mount Garibaldi Provincial Park lies here, a 
region of snowfields and glaciers, alpine meadows and 
sparkling lakes. Garibaldi Lake is an exquisite stretch 
of sea-blue water, with conifers edging the shore and 
little points of trees and rocks and ferns extending into 
the lake. Directly above it looms Mount Garibaldi, 
8,700 feet high, its upper reaches white with snow and 
mantled in clouds. This majestic peak was at one 


266 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


time an active volcano, and a Salish legend explains 
how the volcano became extinct. 

Sea-mother came once a year, in the moon when the 
geese fly south, to the Strait of Georgia; and on one 
of these visits Gull told her of a fiery monster who 
held his head up in the heavens, breathed smoke and 
flame, and reached long black arms (molten lava) 
down to snatch up the animals of the forest to devour 
them. When Sea-mother went herself to see this 
strange creature, a flock of wild geese, flying overhead, 
were suddenly dazed in the smoke and the fire-glow 
and fell into the monster’s jaws. Sea-mother called 
Whale to drown the demon, but Whale could not 
throw water so high. Sea-mother told Gull and his 
brothers to fly overhead with their beaks full of water; 
but they only had their feathers smoked, and to this 
day many of them are gray or their wing-tips are black. 
Then Sea-mother called upon the Underwater-people to 
kill this monster who was destroying the birds and the 
animals. And Underwater-people tunneled through 
from the ocean and drowned the demon. Today only 
his body remains, as the great Mount Garibaldi. 

The coast of British Columbia, world-famed for the 
magnificence of its fjords and stupendous cliffs, is ut- 
terly unique. Geographically, it is a submerged valley 
intersected by innumerable transverse submerged val- 
leys. ‘The result is a network of straits, of deep inlets, 
of channels and ragged bays, shut in by precipitous 
mountain walls. And scattered everywhere are islands 
—exquisite bits of rock and trees, or entire mountain- 





Phcto., Lecnard Frank 


CAPILANO CANYON AND THE LIONS 
In the very heart of such beauty as this lies the important city of 
Vancouver. 





Bisa a I, 
igs ee 
ee 





Eo te fy : 
Photo., Leonard Frank 


SIWASH ROCK, VANCOUVER 
Not the least of its charm is the sturdy little tree which defies both 
wind and salt-sea spray, 


BRITISH COLUMBIA’S GRANDEUR 267 


peaks, from one to seven thousand feet high, with 
dense spruce and hemlock forests clothing their slopes. 

Between the fringe of islands and the high, forest- 
green mainland, and often weaving in and out among 
the islands, is the famous Inside Passage, used by 
passenger-boats from Seattle, Victoria and Vancouver 
to Skagway, Alaska. Besides the grandeur of high 
mountains looming above immensely deep fjords, and 
the loveliness of wooded mountain-islands, there is 
a fascination in the constantly changing color of the 
water. There is here none of the forbidding, gloomy 
grandeur of the Norwegian fjords, but rather a friend- 
liness, a richness of beauty that makes one wish to 
explore as well as to admire. 

The southern end of the Inside Passage is the Strait 
of Georgia, a great arm of the Pacific that stretches 
between Vancouver Island and the British Columbia 
mainland. This strait itself has many ragged arms 
that run up into the coast; and curving about one of 
these, Burrard Inlet, is the city of Vancouver. As a 
great railroad terminus, a great seaport, and the 
metropolis of western Canada, Vancouver is a progres- 
sive and vastly important city. Lying at the edge of the 
sea and climbing up the hill to the foot of the moun- 
tains, it is a beautiful city. 

In the very heart of Vancouver, almost, is Stanley 
Park, its primeval wildness unspoiled by attempts at 
landscape gardening. The cool depths of its great trees 
and jungled undergrowth carry one back to the long 
centuries ago when perhaps not even Indians had come 


268 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


to wander through this lovely old forest. Giant tree- 
trunks are fallen; earth and leaf-mold have gathered 
above them through the centuries; and rising out of 
this, with the ancient tree-trunks still showing, are 
close-crowded monarchs of another age, spruce and 
fir, lifting their feathery heads high up toward the bits 
of blue that scarcely can be seen. Lakes lie gleaming 
in the midst of the forest. Fern-brakes, breast-high, 
crowd in beside bright-leaved maples, which flaunt 
their glory wherever they can catch a few flecks of 
sunshine. 

Where the giant conifers of Stanley Park run down 
to meet the water of Burrard Inlet or the adjacent 
English Bay, there are rocky beaches, wooded points 
and little coves, and boulders against which the incom- 
ing tide breaks in fountains of spray. Siwash Rock is 
a curious formation left after the constant beat of the 
waves has worn through the cliff till, at high tide, this 
rock stands alone in the water. A small tree grows 
_ bravely from its top, undaunted by winds and waves 
and salt-sea air. 

Siwash Rock is much loved by those who live on the 
British Columbia coast, because of its close association 
with Pauline Johnson, Canada’s Indian poet. She sat 
here hour after hour, even many nights, it is claimed, 
drinking in the beauty of earth and sky and water, 
finding inspiration in the murmur of the wind through 
the spruce-boughs, communing with the rhythmic sound 
of the sea. She now lies buried nearby. 

The strange formation of this rock was explained 


BRITISH COLUMBIA’S GRANDEUR 269 


by the Indians in many legends. One refers to a war 
brought on when a Nootka chief, from Vancouver 
Island, directly opposite, attempted to carry off the 
daughter of a Salish chief on the mainland. The Noot- 
kas had chosen a wild, dark night for an attack by sea. 
But spies carried word to the Salish, and the chief and 
his warriors, waiting till dark, spread a barrier of 
fishnets across the channel where Siwash Rock now 
stands; then, being sure of ensnaring the Nootka 
canoes, they went home to their lodges. But the Salish 
maiden loved the young Nootka, so she hurried to the 
coast, and, leaning far out over the rocks, held a spruce- 
torch on high, that her lover and his braves might see 
the nets and be saved. The Nootkas never came, for 
the chief’s canoe had been lost in the storm and he was 
drowned, and the others went back to their lodges. 
But the maiden still stands there, turned to stone 
through the ages and ever holding on high her spruce- 
torch, which has now grown branches and become a 
lovely tree. 

There are many wildly picturesque places within a 
short distance of Vancouver. The most noted of these 
is Capilano Canyon, where the river hastens down from 
the nearby mountain; where 


“The Dream Hills lift their summits in a sweeping, 
hazy crescent, 
With the Capilano Canyon at their feet.” 


The walls of the gorge, steep and narrow, are densely 
wooded with spruce and pine; and in the far depths the 


270 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


river gurgles over a boulder bed or lingers to form 
pools beneath beetling cliffs. Many salmon leap the 
rapids here. 

Far up and beyond the canyon the two Lions, sil- 
houetted against the sky, keep eternal guard over the 
mountains and valleys below. These strange mountain 
crags, shaped like crouching lions, figure in countless 
Indian legends. The Squamish say that, a great many 
hundred snows ago, two mountain lions were disputing 
over a rabbit which both claimed; North Wind came 
by and agreed to settle the dispute for them. He would 
cross to another peak and blow, and the first lion to be 
blown over must give up the rabbit. That seemed fair; 
so the lions crouched down face to face and the North 
Wind began to blow. One lion was turned almost at 
right-angles to the other; but still he was not blown 
over. And to this very day, on those far heights, nearly 
seven thousand feet, North Wind is still blowing and 
the lions are still crouching, for neither is willing to 
fall over, and so lose the rabbit. 

Grouse Mountain, rising four thousand feet above 
Vancouver, has a delightful trail leading up to the 
summit through fragrant forests and overlooking Eng- 
lish Bay. Other notably lovely places near Vancouver 
are Lynn Canyon, where falls and turbulent rapids roar 
through a narrow gorge; and Indian River Park, which 
has the varied beauty of quiet lagoons, of tumultuous 
mountain streams, and of water tumbling over fern- 
fringed precipices. 

The Chinese claim that the British Columbia coast 


BRITISH COLUMBIA’S GRANDEUR 271 


was well known to their fishermen as early as the fifth 
century. They called the country Fusang. In 1580 
Francis Drake sailed his Golden Hynde into a bay 
north of present San Francisco; but already his ship 
was freighted with treasure sacked from Peru and 
Mexico, and instead of continuing northward he de- 
cided to go home. 


“The Golden Hynde 
Undocked, her white wings hoisted; and away 
Westward they swiftly glided from the shore 
Where, with a wild lament, their Indian friends, 
Knee-deep i’ the creaming foam, all stood at gaze, 
Like men that for one moment in their lives 
Have seen a mighty drama cross their path.” 


So to Juan de Fuca, sailing under the Spanish flag, fell 
the honor of the discovery of this coast when, in 1592, 
he sailed through the strait which bears his name and 
touched at Vancouver Island. Other Spanish explorers 
followed—many of their names, Quadra, Alberni, Cor- 
dova, remain with Vancouver Island to this day; but 
not until two centuries after its discovery did the is- 
land come into real prominence when George Van- 
couver sailed entirely round it, claimed it for England, 
and so began the long dispute with Spain over its 
possession. 

Stretching for nearly three hundred miles along the 
British Columbia coast, Vancouver Island is at once 
the largest, the most important and the most interesting 
of the archipelago that reaches from Juan de Fuca 


272 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


Strait northward into Alaska. At the south end of 
the island is the spacious harbor where Victoria, the 
capital of British Columbia, curves about the inlet and 
climbs backward toward the hills. 

With its beautiful setting and its fine garden-homes, 
Victoria is considered one of the loveliest cities in 
Canada. And there is a charm there that one finds 
nowhere else. It may come from the restful beauty of 
the sea, glimpsed always beyond a fringe of flowers 
or through boughs of evergreen-trees. It may be the 
soothing air that drifts down from the hills, sweet 
with wild thistle, laden with incense from pine and 
cedar and other conifers that climb up into the moun- 
tains. ‘“‘Follow the birds to Victoria” if you would 
visit a beautiful, a friendly, and a wholly delightful 
city. 

Motor-roads radiate from it in every direction, fol- 
lowing the rugged coast or running back into the hills, 
affording an ever-changing and greatly varied pano- 
rama. From landscaped rose-gardens, or fruit-orch- 
ards in bloom, one is suddenly swept out onto a wide 
moor, pink with heather, starred here and there with 
the deeper magenta of fragrant Scotch thistle. A cool 
bit of woods is entered—English oaks growing proudly 
among the ever-lovely Canadian maples. And every- 
where, it seems, there is a glimpse of the sea. Bays 
and inlets reach in, leaving delightful woodsy points; 
rocky bluffs crop up from the water, edged above with 
dark-green conifers and below with a curl of white 
sea-foam. Each turn of the road discloses some new 





i My 
Lid 


Photo., Leonard Frank 


AN ISLAND LAKE 


Vancouver Island has many lovely lakes cupped in its wild hills. 


“dUSINDX9 ST 19}BM 9IIYM-JYSIIG Iu} Ysor1oJ YIvp ur pawesy 
STIVA GINVAAd 





BRITISH COLUMBIA’S GRANDEUR 273 


view, some different loveliness. Up in the hills, the 
waterfalls begin; and hidden away in cool green forests 
there are exquisite lakes, covered with white and yellow 
water-lilies, the banks crowded round with ferns. 

Still higher are the mountains, their snow-summits 
cutting sharply against a sea-blue sky, glaciers clinging 
in their hollows. The highest of the mountains is 
Victoria Peak, 7,484 feet; and one that is much loved 
is Mount Arrowsmith. Strathcona Park will preserve 
much of Vancouver Island’s great scenic beauty; and 
even outside of the park area there are immense for- 
ests, holding in their fastnesses streams and lakes that 
especially lure the angler. Cowichan and Nimkish are 
two of the important rivers noted for their fine trout. 

A motor-ride on scenic Malahat Drive discloses an 
unfolding panorama of sea and mountains; but only 
the hiker who dips into the forests, the canoeist who 
paddles down the streams, or the angler who camps 
beside the lakes, can experience the greatest charm of 
this lovely island. 

The west coast of Vancouver Island is deeply in- 
dented with bays and inlets. Alberni Canal, Nootka 
Sound, and Quatsino Sound are the largest. A little 
wooded isle off the northeast coast is known to those 
who take the Inside Passage route because of the pic- 
turesque Indian village of Alert Bay. The cemetery 
here, still in a lonely spot between forest and sea, has 
many interesting totem-poles, dating back untold years 
when the island was all a wilderness. 

Most of the totem-poles, at Alert Bay and elsewhere, 


274 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


show the Great Thunderbird, common to all coast 
Indians. The Thunderbird is a supernatural creature 
who lives beyond the clouds and wears his feather-coat 
only when he comes to earth. Whenever he is hungry 
he pecks a hole in the sky and one can see the Black 
Beyond (storm-clouds). ‘The flapping of his great 
wings as he descends produces thunder; and the flashing 
of his greedy eye as he sees a whale causes lightning. 

Much farther north, off the British Columbia coast, 
are the Queen Charlotte Islands, a group of about one 
hundred and fifty, ranging in size from the large 
Graham and Moresby Islands to mere peaks of rock 
extending out of the water. Most of these islands are 
mountainous and covered with deep forests of spruce, 
cedar and hemlock. Waterfalls of tremendous height 
drop down from the mountains, a source of power 
already being utilized. ‘The natural resources here are 
enormous. Gold, silver, copper, platinum, iron, coal, 
oil shale, and slate are but a few of the immense riches 
that lie hidden away, awaiting development; while sep- 
arating the islands from the mainland is the very broad 
and always choppy Hecate Strait, famous for its sal- 
mon, cod, herring and halibut. 

For centuries the Queen Charlotte Islands have been 
the home of the Haida tribe; and in strange and out- 
of-the-way places, deep in the forests, the ruins of a 
long-forgotten village will be stumbled upon, its totem- 
poles crumbling, its community-lodges falling to pieces. 
The totem-poles are genealogical tables, with occa- 
sionally a record of some heroic deed. Each clan had 


BRITISH COLUMBIA’S GRANDEUR 275 


its protecting spirit—a bird or an animal. The Wolf, 
the Raven, and the Black Bear, who is little brother 
to the Marten, are most often used; although even the 
Eagles, who are witch-people, are seen, and the Sea- 
Otter and the Land-Otter, who are wild-people. The 
Raven, like the Great Thunderbird, is common to every 
tribe that used totem-poles. In almost all the legends 
of the Haidas the Raven figures in some way. 

In the long-ago, the Haidas say, Raven was snow- 
white. In those days the animal-people had to drink 
sea-water, for the only fresh water on earth was closely 
guarded by Raven’s uncle. One day Raven flew to his 
uncle’s lodge to steal this great gift and spread it 
throughout the land in rivers and lakes. By a ruse he 
lured his uncle out of the lodge, then quickly drank all 
the fresh water. But when he would escape, his uncle 
blocked the doorway, and Raven had to fly to the 
smoke-hole in the top of the lodge. There he was 
caught in the opening, and not until all his feathers had 
been smoked jet-black from the fire below could he 
free himself and fly off with his precious burden of 
water. 

Raven’s bill was curved during the great flood that 
covered all the earth, the Haidas say. He grabbed up 
his grandmother and flew with her to the sky. There 
he hung firmly by sticking his bill into the roof of the 
sky; but the weight of his grandmother was great, and 
by the time Gull flew up and told him the waters had 
subsided, his beak was badly curved. Still another 
Haida legend says Raven’s crooked beak was caused 


276 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


when he turned himself into a cod and was caught by 
a fisherman who pulled his nose off in unhooking him. 
Raven flopped about until he found where his nose was 
hidden; then he slapped it on so quickly that he got it 
crooked. 

Boats through the Inside Passage often stop at Bella 
Bella, on Campbell Island, a little Indian fishing village 
with a group of curious totem-poles standing guard 
over the graves of the dead. ‘Bella Bella” is the name 
of the Indian tribe and not, as some think, a Spanish 
name given by the early explorers and meaning “Beau- 
tiful Beautiful’’—although that is indeed descriptive of 
the island. 

In 1833 Fort McLoughlin, a Hudson’s Bay post, 
was opened at Bella Bella; and shortly afterward the 
Company’s paddle-wheel steamer, the Beaver, the first 
steam-vessel on the coast, made its appearance. ‘The 
natives were astounded. Canoes they well knew. 
Sloops, with great white sails bellowing in the wind, 
they could understand. But here was a ship plowing 
through the water with neither oars nor sails! Their 
first amazement turned to fear when they consulted 
their medicine-men, who knew all magic, and were 
assured that the Devil was running the boat—could 
they not see for themselves the smoke and sparks of 
fire which belched forth from the bowels of the ship, 
the Devil blowing his breath to make the boat go? It 
took days for the white men to convince them there was 
nothing supernatural about the Beaver; and then, to 
cover their chagrin, the Indians boasted loudly that 


BRITISH COLUMBIA'S GRANDEUR 277 


they could build a steamboat themselves! The Hud- 
son’s Bay men, looking for sport, laid a wager. But 
it was the turn of the white men to be amazed when the 
Indian “‘steamer’”’ was launched in the inlet and went 
plowing through the waves at about three miles an 
hour. 

The strange craft was built of a section of Douglas 
fir, a huge tree-trunk, hollowed out and painted over, 
with portholes painted on the sides, a smoke-stack set 
in, and paddle-wheels painted bright red. Indians hid- 
den inside the log turned the paddles so they revolved 
rhythmically; another Indian, crouching beneath the 
smoke-stack, held a pan of burning leaves so that dense 
smoke poured forth. To outward appearances it was 
certainly a steamboat. The natives were jubilant; and 
the Hudson’s Bay men sportingly paid the wager. 

Almost opposite Bella Bella, a long arm of the sea 
runs into the mainland, past King’s Island with its 
ragged coast, and connects with Burke Channel which 
extends up to the Bella Coola River. Here it was that 
Alexander Mackenzie, in 1793, reached the Mer de 
TV Ouest for which he so diligently had searched. He 
named the stream the Salmon River because of the 
great number of salmon he found there—a welcome 
treat after the many days with very little food. 

Mackenzie had left Fort Chipewyan, on Lake Atha- 
basca, late in 1792, wintered at the foot of the Rockies 
and set off in the early spring to cross the ‘Shining 
Mountains” and find a river which would lead him to 
the Pacific. Indians he met could give him no informa- 


278 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


tion except that somewhere to the west there was a 
“lake with water unfit to drink” where white men came 
in vessels as large as islands. Cutting his way through 
the Rockies, following up the Peace and then the Pars- 
nip River, Mackenzie came to the upper waters of the 
Fraser, which he thus discovered. 

On the turbulent Fraser Mackenzie’s little party 
almost met its end. ‘‘We came across a cascade which 
broke several large holes in the bottom of the canoe, 
and started all the bars,’ the explorer wrote. ‘We 
all jumped out, and held fast to the wreck; to which 
fortunate resolution we owed our safety.” At last 
they were thrown against boulders in shallow water, 
and ‘‘the Indians, when they saw our deplorable situa- 
tion, instead of making the least effort to help us, sat 
down and gave vent to their tears.”’ 

Mackenzie cheered his party by a ration of rum, 
mended the canoe with spruce-bark, and set off down 
the tempestuous river. Atna Indians told him the 
most direct route to the coast; and so he crossed the 
height-of-land, descended the Salmon River, now the 
Bella Coola, and reached the Pacific Ocean, being the 
first white man to cross the continent north of Mexico. 

The natives about Bella Coola were so superstitious 
regarding salmon that they would eat no other meat 
for fear the spirit of the salmon might be offended. 
When some articles were stolen from Mackenzie’s 
camp, he told the Indians that the salmon came from 
the sea, the sea belonged to the white men, and he, 
being a white man, would tell the Sea-god to stop the 


BRITISH COLUMBIA’S GRANDEUR 279 


salmon from coming into their rivers unless the stolen 
articles were speedily returned. They were brought 
at once, and Mackenzie was “appeased” by a feast of 
their greatest delicacy, the inner bark of the hemlock- 
pine seeped in salmon-oil. 

From Bella Coola a scenic trail climbs up into the 
hills to the east, through cedar and hemlock forests, 
crosses the height-of-land, and follows beside Tatla 
Lake, drops down the broad valley of the Chilkotin, 
and turns east to the Fraser. From this trail a branch 
leads north through an almost untraveled region of 
mountains and lakes, and many streams where beaver 
are busily at work. The trail ends at Ootsa Lake, a 
long, winding, irregular body of water which, like 
Francois Lake north of it, is no more than a wide, 
peaceful river. The country watered by Ootsa Lake 
was a great summer hunting and fishing ground for the 
Kwakiutl Indians, who lived beyond the watershed, 
where Gardner Canal runs deeply in from the coast. 

This canal is one of the loveliest of all the great arms 
of the sea that lie, valleys of water, between the rugged 
heights of the Coast Range. It reaches out to the 
Inside Passage. Its entire length is cut up with creeks 
and coves and inlets, wooded points, rocky headlands, 
sprawling islands, waterfalls and rapids. Streams of 
clear-green water drop down from the hills, ending in 
the canal in a churned bit of foam. Boulders crop out, 
and the water swirls against them, then turns and 
changes its course. And there is a never-ending struggle 
for supremacy between the tide which comes up from 


280 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


the sea and the water which rushes down from the hills. 
A noted writer calls Gardner Canal ‘‘one of the grand- 
est and gloomiest fjords on this coast.”” He might have 
added that it is one of the loveliest and most interesting. 

A very beautiful stretch of the Inside Passage is 
Grenville Channel, a narrow path of water lying be- 
tween rugged Pitt Island and the mainland. On both 
sides the mountains rise abruptly from one to three 
thousand feet, forming a canyon whose walls are blue- 
black with evergreen forests, with here and there a 
wide swath of lush-green where an avalanche has 
cleared a path and young tree-growth has sprung up 
quickly in its wake; or streaks of white, like ribbon 
streamers, show waterfalls leaping down from tre- 
mendous heights, the foam of the water snow-white 
against the rich green of the trees. 

Porcher Island, at the head of Grenville Channel, 
is immensely rich in gold, silver, copper and marble. 
Also it is rich in beauty, with a rim of rock where the 
waves wash, and deep forests running up the irregular 
slopes. 

Almost opposite Porcher Island, to the east, the 
broad and picturesque mouth of the Skeena River, is- 
land-dotted and lovely, gives promise of the rich beauty 
for which this river is famed throughout its entire 
course. Immediately north of the mouth of the Skeena, 
the city of Prince Rupert stands on a rocky mountain- 
islands of its own. Prince Rupert is the largest Pacific 
port north of Vancouver; it is the ‘Gateway to 
Alaska’; it is an important railway terminus, where 





Courtesy, Canadian National Rys. 


WHERE WHITEHORN LIFTS ABOVE KINNEY LAKE 
Few peaks in Mount Robson Park have so many Indian legends to 
explain them. 





pa 


Courtesy, Canadian National Rys. 


TOTEM-POLES AT KITWANGA 
Having stood guard over the village for three centuries, what 
enthralling tales they might tell! 


BRITISH COLUMBIA’S GRANDEUR 281 


train and boat meet; and it is a vastly picturesque and 
interesting city, running from the sea up into the hills. 

A pleasant boat trip from Prince Rupert ascends the 
Portland Canal, with rugged, mountainous Alaska on 
the west bank and equally rugged British Columbia on 
the east. At the head of the Canal, the little towns of 
Stewart, in British Columbia, and Hyder, in Alaska, 
lie with only the river between them. 

A similar boat trip ascends Portland Inlet to the 
picturesque mining town of Anyox, where in the early 
days the natives caught great quantities of candle-fish, 
not only for food but for the oil which, with pith for 
a wick, made an excellent candle. Their method of 
catching the fish was to drive nails through the end of 
a pole, sweep the pole through the water and thus 
impale the fish. 

A railroad cuts through British Columbia about mid- 
way from east to west, from Jasper National Park to 
Prince Rupert. North of this railroad there is an 
immense area, covering nearly half of the province, 
that is little frequented except by the prospector and 
the trapper. Toward the east are the Rocky Moun- 
tains, on the west the Coast Range, and in the great 
high valley between these two, and paralleling them, the 
Cassiar Range extends northwest into Yukon. This 
region, long known as New Caledonia, is heavily for- 
ested with spruce, hemlock and alpine fir; and being 
rarely visited, it is a refuge for big game and fur- 
bearing animals. But the region is rich, too, in mineral 
deposits, and man already is finding his way in. Coal 


282 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


is being mined extensively. Gold, silver, platinum, lead 
and other ores abound. A gold strike near Dease Lake, 
high in the Cassiar Mountains, brought a stampede in 
the spring of 1925. Much richer gold regions are 
undoubtedly yet to be found, somewhere in this wil- 
derness. 

High in the Cassiar Mountains four important rivers 
have their source. The Stikine winds in a great arc 
about the bluffs of this range, and turns and cuts 
through Alaska. The Nass, beginning farther south, 
drops about six thousand feet in its turbulent descent 
to Portland Canal. The Finlay starts northward but 
turns and runs south to form one of the two great 
branches of the Peace River. And the Skeena—there 
is no other river in the world just like the Skeena. 

It rises in a jade lakelet and, gaining in size and 
impetus as it goes, dashes down from the mountains, 
racing through wild canyons or deep gorges. Many 
rivers join it, bringing always a burden of lake-water. 
The long, irregular, hundred-mile stretch of Babine 
Lake, which is the delight of fisherman, camper and 
canoeist, has outlet to the Skeena through Babine River. 
And a few miles below the Babine the broad, turbulent, 
pale-green Bulkley gives of its all to the Skeena. 

To this point, near the town of Hazelton, the Skeena 
has flowed south between the mountain ridges. Now 
it turns westward; but to reach the sea it must cut 
through the entire Coast Range. This it does by wind- 
ing in and out among the mountain-spurs, accepting and 
widening natural gorges rather than cutting through 


BRITISH COLUMBIA’S GRANDEUR 283 


rock and forming canyons. The result is some of the 
most exquisitely beautiful scenery in America, perhaps 
in the world. Each turn of the river, each unfolding 
of the hills, is like a delicate etching. There is none of 
the wild ruggedness, the tumultuous grandeur, of the 
Rockies to be found here. But long after the magnifi- 
cence of icefields and glaciers is but a blurred memory, 
the haunting beauty of the Skeena remains, poignantly. 

The hills, amethyst and lavender-gray, fold upon 
one another softly, running up from the water, reaching 
their points out so that the river, as smooth as a lake, 
must turn and wander round. Here and there, in the 
midst of the broad water, there are islands, covered 
with spruce and feathery willow, the shingle beaches 
strewn with driftwood. Where the river is more shal- 
low, boulders lie in its bed and are showered as the 
water dashes against them. Smoothed by this constant 
beat of the river, and wet with spray, they glisten like 
lacquered stones, in red and yellow and bright helio- 
trope. 

Another turn and the river is narrow and deep, swift- 
flowing but smooth, its glassy surface mirroring the 
cliffs and the leaning trees. Above moss-green rocks a 
fringe of poplars, wind-blown till their leaves show 
white, gleam like flecks of silver where they reflect in 
the opal-blue water. The next turn shows pinkish-gray 
cliffs, completely framed in dark cedars and duplicated 
in the water-mirror of the river. 

Hills, misty, unreal, smoke-blue and green and ame- 
thyst, rise steeply from the edge of the water; and 


284 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


beyond them mountains, snow-splashed, hazy, exqui- 
sitely colored, stand softly against the sky. 

The railroad from Jasper National Park to Prince 
Rupert follows the Skeena closely in all its wanderings 
from Hazelton to the sea; so the extraordinary loveli- 
ness of this river may be viewed in comfort from an 
observation-car. 

In addition to the remarkable scenery there is much 
of interest along the Skeena. ‘The old Indian village 
of Kitwanga, with its totem-poles and curious grave- 
houses, may be inspected while the train waits for that 
purpose. These totem-poles, could one know their his- 
tory from the moment of their carving and on down 
through the years, would be intensely interesting. One 
of the oldest poles, now fallen, and dating back two 
or three centuries, is the totem of Nehrt, a warrior 
whose lawlessness was matched by his cunning. His 
father had been a Haida chief who stole the daughter 
of a Tsimsian chief of the mainland and forcibly carried 
her off to the Queen Charlotte Islands. When Nehrt 
was born the Tsimsian maiden decapitated his father 
with a sharp seashell and fled with the child back to 
the mainland. But again she was carried off, and the 
small Indian boy was left to shift for himself. He 
wandered through the forests, learning his cunning 
from the animals, and as he grew to manhood he was 
looked upon as an outlaw. Finally he came to Kit- 
wanga and built himself a stronghold on top of a cone- 
shaped hill—its ruins are still to be seen. He sur- 
rounded his houses on top of the mound with a double 


BRITISH COLUMBIA’S GRANDEUR 285 


row of tree-trunks bound together with cords of sinew 
and so arranged that the cutting of one cord would 
release the entire palisade, crushing the foe simultane- 
ously in every direction. At the foot of the hill, to 
warn him of the approach of the enemy, he hid in the 
bushes a cordon of sinews, having tied to it at intervals 
dried deer-hoofs and puffin-beaks that would rattle 
when the taut cord was touched. The totem-pole of 
Nehrt shows, neatly laid side by side, the enemies he 
crushed with this ingenious tree-bombardment. 

Farther down the Skeena River, past Kitsalas Can- 
yon, with towering green cliffs, Indian fishing-huts 
perch at the edge of the water; and, if the salmon are 
leaping, the owner of the hut very likely will be seen 
casting his net. Occasionally groups of totem-poles 
will be glimpsed, almost hidden among the trees on a 
wooded point, or standing alone on a bit of beach, 
where the Indians of the long-ago brought their dead 
to be buried deep in the wilderness. 

In the broad mouth of the Skeena a rarely beautiful 
sight is a salmon fleet, its odd-shaped boats and its 
flapping sails as colorful and as picturesque as a fishing 
fleet of Chioggia. 

From Hazelton eastward the railway follows up the 
valley of the Bulkley River. Here the scenery becomes 
wilder; one gorge after another is revealed, with the 
mountains pressing close on both sides, occasionally 
opening to disclose a wild ravine with the white foam 
of rushing water. Bulkley Gates stand in a spectacular 
gorge where the river swirls between two perpendicular 


286 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


sheets of rock left like buttresses against the cliffs when 
the water, during the centuries, beat its way through the 
solid rock wall that opposed its progress. 

The upper Bulkley flows through a wide and undu- 
lating valley. Indigo lakes, white with cloud-reflections 
and water-fowl, are scattered everywhere. In places 
the valley spreads out to flats massed with coral-weed. 
Again forests will creep down to the river—spruce and 
pine checkered with the lighter foliage of poplar and 
willow; in the early fall sumac splashes the landscape 
with bright scarlet which 


“No eye can overlook, when ’mid a grove 

Of yet unfaded trees she lifts her head 
Decked with autumnal berries, that outshine 
Spring’s richest blossoms.” 


Unfortunately this landscape also has its tragedy; 
for there are immense areas where once-proud forests 
are now but scattered, charred trunks, the pathos of 
these skeleton-trees being made more poignant by the 
glowing vitality of fireweed, which seems to delight 
especially in burned-over ground. 

Kast of Bulkley River, across a ridge of rolling hills, 
Babine Lake spreads through a wide, hundred-mile- 
long valley. A missionary visiting a Hudson’s Bay 
post here in the early days, found an Indian sitting in 
front of the fort, wailing loudly. For a day and a night 
he had wailed without ceasing; and by the use of much 
tact and a present or two the missionary learned the 
cause of his grief. He was a good Catholic, this 


BRITISH COLUMBIA’S GRANDEUR 287 


Indian, the priest having worked with him faithfully, 
and now his sorrow was that he had died, two days 
before, and gone to heaven; but, alas, the gates were 
locked and St. Peter was away at the salmon-fishing, 
so the poor Indian could not get in and had to come 
back to life again. 

East of the valley of Babine Lake is yet another 
long, and wholly wild valley of water, where Stuart 
River, flowing southeastward, broadens into Tacla 
Lake for about sixty miles of its course, and again into 
the even larger Stuart Lake. ‘The river ends in the 
Nechako, one of the important tributaries of the upper 
Fraser. 

At the bend of the Fraser, where it forms a water- 
way east and south, where the Nechako comes from: 
the west, and the Parsnip almost reaches down from 
the north, the North-West Company established Fort 
George as a fur-trading post more than a hundred years 
ago. Today, as Prince George, its interest still centers 
about trappers, and prospectors, who make this thriv- 
ing little town their outfitting-point for the Peace River 
country to the north, reaching it through long and 
beautiful McLeod Lake, and the Parsnip River. This 
northern region, watered by the Finlay River, densely 
timbered with spruce, fir and pine, is rich in gold and 
platinum, and abounds in moose, black bear and other 
big-game and fur-bearing animals. 

East of the town of Prince George, the picturesque 
valley of the upper Fraser, with a restless river and 
wild gorges, leads to the very foot of the highest peak 


288 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


in the Canadian Rockies—snow-white Mount Robson. 

To preserve the grandeur of this monarch, the Brit- 
ish Columbia Government has created Mount Robson 
Park, adjoining Jasper National Park in Alberta, and 
including not only this great Mount Robson, 12,972 
feet high, but the surrounding region of mountains and 
snowpeaks and glaciers. 

Mount Robson is truly sublime. The beautiful sym- 
metry of its peak, and its massive sides eternally white, 
give it a grandeur that is at once inspiring, uplifting, 
and strangely depressing. But greater than the awe 
one feels at its stupendous bulk is the fascination, the 
glory of it. Clouds float about the summit, at rare 
intervals rolling downward to disclose the glistening 
mass of ice that is its ultimate peak. Glaciers cling to 
the white shoulders between rock-pinnacles swept bare 
of snow. 

Tumbling Glacier flows down in an immense cascade 
of frosted, lucent-blue ice, two miles broad and criss- 
crossed with deep crevasses, its foot reaching into the 
waters of Berg Lake. Huge cakes of ice fall off the 
glacier, with a resounding boom heard far down the 
valley, and float about, miniature icebergs, frost-white 
and green and blue, in the indigo lake. With a back- 
ground of rock and glacier and superb snow-mountain, 
and a foreground of trees and flowers and lush-green 
grass, few lakes are more lovely than Berg Lake, flank- 
ing Mount Robson. A small creek, tumbling out of 
the lake, finds its way eventually to the Fraser River. 

A trail leads up to this world of grandeur, passing 





oo > te 
Courtesy, Canadian National Rys. 


MAJESTIC MOUNT ROBSON 
The snow-white mountain, shadowed in purple and gold and blue, 
rises in eternal loveliness. 


“qie@q uosqoy Juno; Ur Ja1oe[s sty} Ul adInos s}r sey YyooaIQ 9uO0sadtg 
aTXOM AHL O dOLV 


appt fo pavog uoqyuowuwpy ‘ksazanog 





BRITISH COLUMBIA’S GRANDEUR 289 


through the Valley of a Thousand Falls, where the 
water from the snowy heights comes pouring down 
over every possible ridge and nook and precipice, fall- 
ing in beautiful and often stupendous cataracts. Em- 
peror Falls is one of the loveliest, with a drop of nearly 
one hundred and fifty feet into a basin of amethyst 
rock. 

A strangely beautiful peak in Mount Robson Park 
has the appropriate name of Whitehorn; for, unlike 
its sharp-pointed twin peak, it is perpetually white with 
snow and resplendent with hanging glaciers. Kinney 
Lake, lying at the foot of Whitehorn and shut in among 
the peaks like a glassy sea, shows superb reflections in 
its dark-blue water. 

In the long-ago Whitehorn and its twin peak were 
not there, an Indian legend states. The land was all 
level forest, and in its midst lived a Witch-woman who 
was always hungry, for she herself had been bewitched 
so that she could never kill an animal. An Indian girl 
who wished to be the most beautiful maiden in the 
world made a bargain with the Witch-woman that, in 
exchange for unearthly beauty, she would keep the 
Witch supplied with food. The maiden became rav- 
ishingly beautiful and suitors hastened from far and 
wide to woo her. Each was told that to win her he 
must be a mighty hunter, he must kill many animals, 
and leave them at a certain place in the forest. And 
when a brave had killed piles of deer and bear and 
other food-creatures, the maiden would say it was not 
enough, he must kill more, and yet more—for the 


290 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


Witch-woman’s appetite was tremendous. At last there 
were only two suitors left, and each was trying to outdo 
the other in the number of animals he slaughtered. 

But the Great Spirit had been watching, and he 
was much displeased that his creatures were being killed 
for a foolish girl. He turned the braves into White- 
horn and its twin peak, that they might eternally watch 
the animals roaming through the forests. The vain 
maiden was then changed to Kinney Lake, to lie humbly 
at the feet of her suitors and to see them always, 
whether she looked upward, or downward at their 
reflection. The Witch-woman died of starvation. 

The snow-draped Mount Resplendent, 11,173 feet 
high, in Mount Robson Park, adds the grandeur of 
opalescent colorings, dazzling in the sunshine, to a 
region filled with splendor. ‘To the south there is a 
vast area of snow and ice, as yet little known, lying 
cradled between peaks of bare red rock, with one 
glacier after another flowing down from immense 
névés. 

Some of the grandest scenery in British Columbia 
lies in the far northwest corner of the province, in the 
Atlin District, where the glaciers are so enormous that 
they spill over into Alaska. The mountains of the 
Coast Range rise here to superb heights, outreaching 
the Canadian Rockies by two to three thousand feet. 
Glaciers sprawl over their summits, curl in their hol- 
lows, and reach down to the indigo-blue lakes that wind 
through the valleys. Icebergs, constantly breaking off 
the glaciers in masses weighing many tons, float about 


BRITISH COLUMBIA’S GRANDEUR 291 


the lakes, almost submerged, their shades of green and 
violent-blue exquisite against the blue of the water. 

Atlin Lake, ninety miles long, is but one of the mag- 
nificent deep-blue lakes in this region of grandeur on 
a large scale, where the water is shut in between rugged 
mountains eternally covered with snow and ice. At the 
head of Atlin Lake, past Goat Island and the smaller 
Copper Island, Llewellyn Glacier falls sublimely down 
from the heights, its upper reaches extending on and 
on until their blue shadows merge with the blue of the 
sky. The glacier ends on the Alaska side, spilling down 
there to fall into the sea, sending off icebergs with 
great resounding booms. 


“Such snow-light, such sea-light confounded 
With thunders that smite like a doom! 

Such grandeur! Such glory! Such gloom! 
Hear that boom! Hear that deep distant boom 
Of an avalanche hurled 

Down this unfinished world!” 


H RELA ERS ean ve oe i Rahs an 
ee y uel ah ry iid ven 





gh ‘ 
’ ' ee Rae ne J 
an 4 . 


hy a, 
ang ' t ‘ 
My 
a bh 
Po i, 
f } 
\ 
A 
Mi 
ne ra Bh 
aah 
Bi) 
A ie wire t« 
nti ‘en ; 
wre Ki 5 SARs A Se ce vate ca ee 
i 
, 
xe ! 
x si J, s } 
. uy i ; ti iv 
Mase S 
dah ‘ : i we in iy 
7 41 ry } IA il 


X. GOLDEN YUKON 


THE KLONDIKE STAMPEDE 

THE Roya NortH-West Mountep Po.ice 
BEAUTIFUL LAKE BENNETT 

MILES CANYON AND WHITEHORSE RAPIDS 
AT WHITEHORSE 

KLUANE LAKE AND THE ST. ELIAS RANGE 
THE TEstiNn LAKE DIstricT 

THE CHARM OF QUIET LAKE 

FIVE FINGER Rapips 

Fort SELKIRK AND THE PELLY RIVER 

A LEGEND OF WHITE RIVER 

VALLEYS OF GOLD 

DawsoON, THE CAPITAL 

AT FoRTYMILE 

THE GREAT NorTH 

An Eskimo LEGEND 

“THE SPELL OF THE YUKON” 


‘ 
Pah’, » a 
¥ ou 

7 
4 
} ‘ 
, 
yy 
ra 





7 15 







4 j , 
, 1, (Ue i Au i 


4, 


(# 





x 
GOLDEN YUKON 


“Now lucent splendors, amethyst and gold 
And clearest emerald, flood the western sky, 
Though all day long dark clouds were heaped on high 
And angry winds went racing, icy-cold; 
But, calm has come with sunset, and behold 
Where late the pageantry of storm went by, 
What dream-bright majesties of color lie 
Across the solemn depths of space unrolled.” 
—Elizabeth Roberts MacDonald 


OR all time the word Yukon will be inseparably 
connected with gold. It is a word to stir the 
blood, to conjure up tales of romance and ad- 

venture, of high courage, of tragedy, of unparalleled 
heroism, and of the rainbow of hopes and the pot of 
gold that to many thousands proved more than a fairy 
fancy. | 

In shape Yukon is not unlike the body of a wing-chair 
in profile; the back adjoins Alaska in a long, straight 
line, the bottom rests upon British Columbia. The 
Rocky Mountains, becoming gradually lower until they 
are mere hills, form its irregular eastern boundary and, 
at the same time, the watershed between the great 
Mackenzie Basin leading to the Arctic Ocean and the 
Yukon Valley reaching through Alaska to Bering Sea. 
The narrow strip forming the top of the chair edges 

295 


296 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


upon the Arctic, the ‘Frozen Sea.” The mighty Yukon 
River, rising in British Columbia, cuts diagonally 
through the heart of Yukon and crosses into Alaska 
midway of the chair-back. And about this river, and 
its important tributaries, the interest in Yukon centers. 

As far back as 1840 trappers from the Hudson’s 
Bay Company had pushed across from the Mackenzie 
Basin and discovered the headwaters of the Yukon 
River. It proved such excellent trapping-grounds that 
little news of the region leaked through to the outside 
world; and not until about 1875 did the first pros- 
pectors begin to come in. ‘They were followed by 
others, and the town of Fortymile sprang up where 
the Fortymile Creek empties into the Yukon—about 
forty miles, by river, from the Alaskan boundary. Gold 
had been found in this creek and in many creeks nearby; 
and the little town of Fortymile became the mining 
center where treasure-seekers coming into the Yukon 
territory exchanged their money—provided it was still 
with them—for prospecting outfits; and coming again 
later, with their gold-dust and nuggets, exchanged these 
for a hilarious night or two in the gambling-houses and 
the dance-halls. 

Sixty miles or so southeast of Fortymile, the Klon- 
dike River empties into the Yukon; a few miles higher, 
the Indian River; and between these two, which run 
roughly parallel, there is a ridge of hills. 

The call of adventure had sounded across the con- 
tinent, and Robert Henderson had heard it in Nova 
Scotia, and answered. He was prospecting on Indian 


GOLDEN YUKON 297 


River, in August, 1896, and finding just enough gold 
to make him believe that somewhere in that ridge 
would be a creek containing a bonanza. He climbed to 
the top of the ridge and prospected down the other 
side. Gold Bottom Creek, so named by him, was even 
more promising than Indian River, but he felt that not 
yet had the greatest treasure been found. ‘The nearest 
white man was George M’Carmack, a “squaw-man’’ 
with a brood of little brown children. Henderson 
hunted him up; told him of his find; and proposed that 
Carmack prospect some of the creeks while he searched 
the others. Whichever should find the bonanza was at 
once to notify the other one, so that they might stake 
the richest claims before the mob came in. 

Carmack left his salmon-fishing and set out to pros- 
pect for gold; and ona tributary of the Klondike River, 
later named Bonanza Creek, he found the treasure that 
was to turn thousands of men and women gold-mad for 
two exciting, adventure-crowded years. The squaw- 
man immediately staked his claim and rushed with all 
haste the sixty miles northward to Fortymile to record 
it. That let out the news, and from all of the Forty- 
mile region and the Alaska fields beyond, prospectors, 
storekeepers and whatnot raced to Bonanza to stake 
claims; and back, running neck and neck, to Fortymile 
to record them. Thus all the richest part of the find 
was taken up, and thousands were feverishly disputing 
over the claims, while Henderson, still patiently pros- 
pecting the creeks beyond, knew nothing of the bon- 
anza; for the squaw-man had not kept faith. 


_ 


298 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


From all over Alaska miners swarmed to the Klon- 
dike region; and one astute New York farmer, who 
happened to be on hand, saw where money could come 
pouring in to him with very little effort. This was 
Joseph Ladue. He secured from the Government a 
large tract of river-bottom land, edging upon the 
Yukon at the mouth of the Klondike, laid out the city of 
Dawson, and sold lots for as much as five thousand 
dollars each. As if by magic, saloons and dance-halls 
sprang up, log and moss cabins stretched up and down 
the straight streets. Dawson was ready to become one 
of the wildest and most lawless frontier stampede 
towns on record, when an incredible thing happened. 
Criminals hastened down the river to American terri- 
tory; gambling-houses changed their tactics and be- 
came orderly and peaceable; dance-halls were respect- 
able; the citizens found themselves in a quiet, law- 
abiding town—a town growing by strides and bounds, 
as new adventurers poured in, but ever obeying the 
law. ‘This seeming miracle in a stampede town, where 
crime is considered inevitable, was wrought by the 
arrival of the Royal North-West Mounted Police. 
Only a few police were needed, for one or two men of 
that world-famous organization could control an entire 
mob of the roughest element—because of the thing 
their uniform stood for. 

The outside world did not begin the stampede into 
the Klondike until nearly a year after the squaw-man 
made his discovery and failed to keep faith with the 
one who had shown him the way to the gold. The 


GOLDEN YUKON 299 


clerks who threw down their pens, the plowmen who 
left their fields, the teachers who deserted their classes, 
the shopkeepers who barred their doors, all gold-mad, 
if they survived the trip from Seattle or Vancouver in 
the impossible craft that were hauled from the scrap- 
heap and pressed into service, found their first pause 
in Skagway, where “Soapy” Smith and his cut-throat 
band terrorized the land. If they escaped the clutches 
of this Arizona outlaw and made their difficult way to 
White Pass where, on reaching British territory, they 
were under the protection of the Royal North-West 
Mounted Police, they found ahead of them a wilderness 
impassable except for the most hardy; for winter had 
set in, and winter in that desolate land, with the ther- 
mometer hovering around sixty below zero, with snow 
falling as much as six feet a day, with blizzards con- 
stantly raging, proved to those ‘‘Cheechakos”’ a gruel- 
ing case of the survival of only the very fittest. 


“Never was seen such an army, pitiful, futile, unfit; 

Never was seen such a spirit, manifold courage and 
grit ; 

Never has been such a cohort under one banner en- 
rolled, 

As surged to the ragged-edged Arctic, urged by 
the arch-temptress Gold.” 


The high courage and the heroism of the Royal 
North-West Mounted Police in those bitter days never 
sufficiently has been sung. Much of it is unknown; for 


300 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


to the police themselves the most heroic deeds were 
regarded as merely part of the routine—passing inci- 
dents in their daily duties. A detachment of the police 
was stationed on both Chilkoot Pass and White Pass, 
the main gateways through which the gold-mad adven- 
turers attempted, in the dead of winter, to reach the 
Klondike’s Eldorado; and hundreds of those who sur- 
vived owed their lives directly to the Royal North- 
West Mounted Police. 

There were countless heroic and self-sacrificing deeds 
among the gold-seekers, as well, as they halted in their 
own eager haste to help the fallen stranger but com- 
rade-of-the-trail, or to share their scanty provisions 
with those whose all had been lost in the merciless 
rapids. Today one cannot pass over the Trail of ’98 
without sensing something of the tragedies, something 
of the high courage, the optimism, the faith, that led 
the treasure-seekers on, and of their heroism that glit- 
tered far more brightly than did the gold for which 
they sought. 

A railroad now climbs from Skagway up to White 
Pass, cuts through a narrow stretch of British Colum- 
bia, enters Yukon, and winds northward to Whitehorse, 
connecting there with the steamer on the Yukon River. 
This trip, made so comfortable today, is famous for 
the magnificence of its scenery, for its superb pano- 
rama of glaciers and snowcapped mountains, of broad 
valleys with rushing rivers, and of long, violet-blue 
lakes. 

Lake Bennett, which the railway closely skirts, lies 


GOLDEN YUKON 301 


across the boundary, partly in British Columbia and 
partly in Yukon. For all its tragic history of ’97-’98, 
Lake Bennett is strikingly lovely. The water, so blue 
it is almost violet, winds through a valley shut in by 
purple mountains. These softly rounded hills sweep 
up from the lake in timbered slopes or rose-purple 
cliffs; and the water, sparkling and smiling, gives no 
evidence of the tragic relics it is holding in the lava-ash 
of its floor; for here many adventurers lost their all, 
including who can say what hopes and dreams. But no 
one could suspect the lake of cruelty; for it is all beauty, 
set in the rose and pink and purple of its mountains. 

At the lower end of Lake Bennett — named for 
James Gordon Bennett when the lake was believed to 
_ be in American territory—the town of Carcross marks 
the old Caribou Crossing. Here the steamer-route 
through Taku Arm begins, passing through some of 
the most magnificent scenery in the world, a region of 
utter grandeur, where the landscape is a changing pano- 
rama of glaciers, ice-lakes, stupendous mountains and 
hanging snow-valleys. 

The water which leaves Lake Bennett, while it is 
called by various names locally, is in reality one of the 
two great forks of the Yukon River. Here the river 
takes the form of a chain of winding lakes. Marsh 
Lake and the creeks flowing into it are a favorite 
breeding-ground for water-fowl, and countless numbers 
of them may be seen. Beaver, too, are partial to the 
streams that run into Marsh Lake, for the creeks are 
fringed with young poplars that are easy to store below- 


302 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


water and make delectable food for frozen winter days. 

The stretch of the Yukon leaving Marsh Lake, and 
known locally as the Fiftymile River, races through 
Miles Canyon over rapids that knew many tragedies 
during the gold rush, rapids that took more than their 
toll of human life and human hopes. Emerging from 
Miles Canyon Rapids the river enters upon Squaw 
Rapids, which are scarcely less turbulent. And leaving 
these it dashes madly over the famous Whitehorse 
Rapids, where a motley collection of craft went to 
destruction in the daring days of ’98. Then, its emo- 
tion spent, it settles into a stretch of calm water; and 
from this point to the Bering Sea, two thousand miles 
or so, the Yukon is navigable by large steamers. 

A short distance below the Whitehorse Rapids, on 
the banks of the Yukon—or the Fiftymile River—is 
the pleasant little town of Whitehorse, situated in the 
midst of rich copper-fields. Whitehorse is important 
as the terminus of the railroad from Skagway, and the 
beginning of the steamship route down the great 
Yukon, the next stopping-point of importance being 
Dawson, the capital of Yukon, about four hundred 
and sixty miles from Whitehorse. When the river is 
frozen over and boats are stored away till spring breaks 
up the ice, horse-drawn sleighs—elsewhere there are 
dog-sleds and reindeer-sleighs—skim over a famous 
Winter Trail which takes a short-cut, making a beeline 
between Whitehorse and Dawson. 

An interesting wagon-road from Whitehorse runs 
westward to Kluane Lake, the largest lake wholly in 


GOLDEN YUKON 303 


Yukon and one of the most magnificently beautiful in 
the great Northwest. For nearly a hundred miles it 
stretches through a valley, mountains edging it closely 
on both sides, roaring waterfalls tumbling down from 
the heights. Green and blue and red cliffs, deeply cor- 
rugated, rise from the water; spruce forests grow 
thickly above and spread down the cliffs; valleys open 
out and run back; islands, timbered and lofty, lift 
above the lake. Beyond Kluane’s western shore, and 
adding to the grandeur of the lake’s setting, are the 
snow and ice summits of the St. Elias Range, containing 
the highest peaks in Canada. Mount Logan, 19,850 
feet, is the highest in North America, except Mount 
McKinley, in Alaska. 

In this St. Elias Range, in the southwest corner of 
Yukon, there are many majestic peaks, eternally white 
with snow and glaciers. An immense icefield reaches 
back across the Alaska boundary. The lower slopes of 
these mountains, however, are densely timbered, and 
this is the favorite region of all for big game. 

Below Whitehorse the Yukon River winds tortuously 
down to Lake Lebarge, which extends for about thirty 
miles in the river’s course. Rising on one side of the 
lake are wooded hills and huge and rugged iron-red 
cliffs, with wild-flowers spilling up and down the cliffs 
and crowding through the forests of spruce, poplar and 
birch. On the other shore, edging the blue of the lake, 
there are mountains of limestone, bare and weirdly 
white. 

The lower end of this lake, where the valley again 


304. BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


narrows to river-width, is famed as the site of the 
cremation of the shivering man from Tennessee: 


“The Northern Lights have seen queer sights, 
But the queerest they ever did see 

Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge 
I cremated Sam McGee.” 


As the river leaves Lake Lebarge and goes racing in 
a tortuous. and tumultuous course down through a val- 
ley shut in by mountains, fragrant with flowers, it is 
known locally as the Thirtymile River. At the mouth 
of the Teslin, or Hootalinqua, River the Yukon gains 
enormously in volume from this great stream draining 
the lakes and rivulets that feed Teslin Lake. 

This long, winding, beautiful Teslin Lake lies in a 
wild country reaching across the border between Yukon 
and British Columbia. It is about a hundred miles 
long, and was one of the highways, but a bitter one, 
into the Klondike. It lies in a vast wilderness of grass- 
grown hills, rocky precipices, and heavily timbered val- 
leys, the haunt of big-game and fur-bearing animals. 
Grizzly and brown bear, mountain sheep, occasional 
mountain goats, moose, caribou and lynx, wander here 
almost undisturbed. Beaver, muskrats and otter, mink, 
ermine, marten, foxes, and many other creatures are 
plentiful in these unfrequented wilds. 

Below the mouth of the Teslin the Yukon receives 
the water of Big Salmon River coming down from 
Quiet Lake. Gold was discovered on this stream by 
the first prospectors who came into the Yukon coun- 


GOLDEN YUKON 305 


try; but the “diggings” here did not become so famous 
as those at Cassiar Bar, just below the mouth of the 
Teslin. 

Quiet Lake was described by an old-timer as “the 
prettiest piece of water that I have seen in the Yukon 
district.” It is about twenty miles long. Sheltered by 
mountains that rise steeply from the lake, the water 
reflects in clearest detail the birch and poplar and 
spruce forests that crowd up its mountain walls; and 
in the early autumn, when the massed birch and poplar 
are vivid yellow, the reflection reaches down into the 
water like molten gold. 

Animals add a wild beauty to this quiet lake. Moose, 
especially, haunt the lake and the valleys that open 
away from it. A bear comes to the river that leaves 
the lake, slaps a quick paw in where the water riffles 
over rocks, pounces upon a salmon, and feasts greedily. 
Muskrats, when they feel the tang of autumn in the air, 
feverishly collect the falling poplar leaves and carry 
them out upon the first thin layer of ice that spreads 
over the lake. This forms a blanket to keep the ice 
beneath from freezing too thickly. Over this blanket 
the muskrats then build an igloo of leaves cemented 
with mud, sealing themselves inside. Their winter 
house thus completed, they gnaw a hole through the 
leaf-blanket and thin ice, so that through the long cold 
season they may swim in the lake at pleasure or crawl 
out and rest on the leafy ledge that surrounds the hole. 
Beaver, too, are busy at work here. In the summer 
months countless birds linger in the quiet valley, water- 


306 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


fowl screaming across the lake, songsters enlivening 
the forests, while circling above them all, or resting on 
a high rocky crag, there often will be one lone eagle. 


“He clasps the crags with crooked hands, 
Close to the sun in lonely lands 
Ring’d with the azure world he stands.” 


Quiet Lake formed part of the Teslin Lake highway 
to the Klondike, the treasure-seekers reaching the 
Yukon through Big Salmon River. Beyond this great 
salmon stream, Little Salmon River rushes down to 
the Yukon from lakes lying high in the Glenlyon Moun- 
tains. 

A trading-post will be found at the mouth of all the 
important tributaries from the interior; and to these 
posts trappers come to bring their pelts and get sup- 
plies. At the town of Carmack—named for the man 
who discovered gold on Bonanza Creek—the Winter 
Trail, taking a shortcut from Whitehorse, touches the 
Yukon and follows it to Fort Selkirk, crossing the river, 
on an ice-trail, at Yukon Crossing, and continuing in a 
direct line to Dawson. 

The stretch of the Yukon between Carmack and 
Fort Selkirk is wild and rugged. The Dawson Range 
crops up on one side, the Glenlyon Mountains on the 
other, both crowding closely to the banks, the trees 
which cling to their steep slopes giving place, here and 
there, to richly colored cliffs. At Five Finger Rapids, 
giant masses of rock, topped with trees, rise in mid- 


GOLDEN YUKON 307 


stream, dividing the river into channels so narrow that 
the steamer scarcely can pass through. The river itself 
wages a ceaseless battle against these rocks, and in 
fury at being so confined it churns and rages madly 
over a series of ledges, forming rapids that only a 
skilled pilot can safely compass. Rink Rapids are a 
few miles below Five Finger, but the intervening 
stretch is so turbulent that it is difficult to say where one 
ends and the other begins. 

The Yukon’s greatest tributary outside of Alaska 
is the Pelly River; and opposite the mouth of this 
stream the town of Fort Selkirk is located. To this 
point the Yukon is commonly known as the Lewes 
River, taking the name of Yukon only after its con- 
fluence with the Pelly. 

Fort Selkirk dates back to 1843 when Robert Camp- 
bell, of the Hudson’s Bay Company, crossed from the 
Mackenzie Basin and reached the confluence of the 
Pelly and the Yukon. He saw at once the advantages 
of this site, with its many water-routes; but red-tape 
unwound slowly in those days, and four years passed 
before Campbell was permitted to establish a trading- 
post there and build a fort. His fort proved to be a 
frail affair; and in 1852 Chilkat and Chilkoot Indians 
from the coast descended upon it, determined to drive 
white men away from their own trading-ground with 
the Tagish, or ‘‘Stick,’’ Indians who lived in the woods. 
They so wrecked and looted the post that the Hudson’s 
Bay Company deserted it. 

Fort Selkirk today is an important trading center; 


308 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


for not only is it on the Yukon highway, but it has 
wagon-road connection with all the great southwest 
corner, rich in furs, gold, copper, coal, and other min- 
erals; and river connection, through the Pelly and the 
Macmillan, with a vast stretch of eastern Yukon reach- 
ing up to the Rocky Mountains watershed. 

The Pelly River rises at the eastern edge of Yukon 
on the slopes of the Rocky Mountains, in two widely 
separated branches, one of these being the Macmillan 
River, which joins the Pelly about seventy-five miles 
east of the Yukon. Both the Pelly and the Macmillan 
flow through a wild region that is almost unknown 
except to trappers; and there are many parts that even 
trappers have not penetrated. [he mountain peaks, in 
this stretch of the Rockies, are perpetually snow-white, 
and resemble gigantic sand-dunes—sharp ridges, with 
drifted sides, or tops softly rounded, as if wind-blown. 
Most of these peaks tower directly above a lake fed 
by melted snow; and the lakes, deep indigo from the 
snow-water, are so sheltered that they reflect, as in a 
mirror, the corrugated and richly colored rock wall of 
the mountain above them and the snow-mantle that 
spreads over its summit and reaches down to cling to 
the ledges. 

One of the loveliest of these lakes, hidden away in 
the high Rockies, is Lake Sheldon, which lies near the 
head of Ross River—a tributary of the upper Pelly. 
Mount Sheldon rises more than three thousand feet 
directly above the lake, in a mass of rose-colored rock 
draped in lavender-blue snow. But a wind blows across 


GOLDEN YUKON 309 


Lake Sheldon, and wide ripples run ceaselessly from 
shore to shore. The mountain reflection is thus ren- 
dered in futuristic curves, which are never still; and the 
Indians say a Water Demon lives below, and the 
shadow-mountain is ceaselessly endeavoring to escape 
from his clutches. 

Much of the country through which the Pelly River 
flows is made more rugged by the uplift of the Pelly 
Mountains and, lower in its course, the Glenlyon 
Mountains, with flat, mesa-like tops and neatly rounded 
domes. These mountains are largely of multicolored 
granite, their lower slopes densely timbered, the upper 
reaches often white with snow. 

The Macmillan River flows for long stretches 
through a valley so deep and narrow it is no more than 
a mountain-gorge; again the river winds through a 
wide, swampy valley, tying itself almost into bowknots 
as it forms circle after circle in weaving from side to 
side. [he marshes here attract the migrating birds. 
Myriads of water-fowl are seen about the swamps or 
upon the lakelets that lie where the marsh gives way to 
meadows. After the Macmillan joins the Pelly, the 
broadened river flows tortuously down to the Yukon, 
its banks rising in wooded terraces which in the far 
distance reach up to the dignity of mountains. The 
Macmillan Mountains reach back in an imposing range, 
dropping down, beyond, to the valley of the Stewart 
River. 

From Fort Selkirk the Winter Trail overland goes 


310 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


in a straight line to Dawson, while the Yukon describes 
a great arc before it reaches the capital. The north 
bank of the river, after it leaves the mouth of the 
Pelly, is for many miles a spectacular wall of lava; the 
south bank rises in terraced mountains. 

White River, coming up from the south, is an im- 
portant tributary of the Yukon. Copper and gold 
mines and immense coal deposits are scattered about its 
headwaters, both in Yukon and in Alaska. 

The Tagish Indians say that the milky color of this 
river was caused long ago when Raven had a quarrel 
with his grandmother. Raven in those days was snow- 
white. When he and his grandmother came to this 
stream she told him to carry her across on his strong 
wings. This he had done at other rivers, but here he 
saw his reflection and thought himself much too beau- 
tiful to carry an old woman on his back. In fury his 
grandmother grabbed him and dashed him into the 
water, and there she held him till all the pretty white 
had washed off his feathers, leaving him jet-black. The 
river was so much pleased with this white that it has 
kept it ever since. | 

The Stewart, joining the Yukon on the east just 
below the White River on the west, is one of the great 
gold rivers, the creeks of this region having been giv- 
ing of their riches for nearly fifty years. As far back 
as 1885, it is claimed, men were averaging a hundred 
dollars a day in the gold output here during the 
summer months, with only the crudest methods of 
operation. The famous Mayo Mining District, with a 





Courtesy, Dept. of the Tylerioe Cunade 
THE FAMOUS WHITEHORSE RAPIDS 


Where many outfits and many hopes were lost during the Klondike 
rush. 





Courtesy, Dept. of the Interior, Canada 


A YUKON LAKE 
Many quiet lakes lie in the sheltered valleys of the White River 
district, 


GOLDEN YUKON 311 


fabulous production of silver-lead, is located near the 
headwaters of the Stewart’s chief tributary, the 
McQuesten. 

The little town of Ogilvie is perched upon the bank 
of the Yukon opposite the mouth of the Sixtymile 
River, a stream noted for its gold-lined creeks shut in 
by wild hills. A few miles farther down the Yukon, 
the Indian River flows in from the east through a 
region vastly rich in gold; and north of it, across a 
ridge of hills, is the famous Klondike River, with its 
many treasure-creeks, the greatest of which, during the 
stampede, was the Bonanza; and even richer than the 
Bonanza was the Eldorado, which flows into it. One 
of the Klondike’s tributaries carries the luring name of 
Too-much-gold Creek. Shortly after the find on 
Bonanza, a stolid Indian, watching the feverish activi- 
ties of gold-crazed white men, remarked indifferently, 
‘‘Bonanza much gold; Hunker Creek more gold; in 
long creek higher up, too much gold.” Needless to say, 
a stampede followed to Too-much-gold Creek. ‘That 
at least was more promising than the stream which 
flows from Ethel Lake, for a disappointed prospector 
felt impelled to name it Nogold Creek. 

The Indians knew the Klondike as a great salmon 
stream. They hammered stakes across it to guide the 
fish into their nets, and so they began to call it ‘““‘Ham- 
mer-creek’’—Tron-diuck. And from this word, spelled 
variously, the white man fashioned the more euphon- 
ious word Klondike. 

Dawson, the capital of Yukon and the most impor- 


312 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


tant city on the river’s entire course, has a delightful 
location on a stretch of level land at the confluence 
of the Klondike and the Yukon. Mountains rising 
directly behind it form a picturesque background and 
at the same time shelter the city from the high winds. 
During the early days, when the Klondike rush was at 
its height, Dawson had a population of more than thirty 
thousand. Men came pouring in from every quarter 
of the globe, and were glad to live in shelters ranging 
through all varieties of log huts to a motley collection 
of canvas tents, and mere shacks made of spruce- 
branches hastily gathered in the adjacent forest. 

But those were the old days of ’98. ‘Today Dawson 
has fine residences, imposing business buildings, a Car- 
negie library, and excellent schools and churches. It is 
a wide-awake and progressive little city, with about 
twenty-five hundred inhabitants, and it is the gateway 
to a vastly interesting region crisscrossed with gold- 
mines. Motor-roads lead to the most important of 
the mines, which now are worked on a large scale and 
in a scientific way. 

No visitor to present-day Dawson oes the city 
without climbing to the summit of the Dome to get the 
superb view up and down the Yukon Valley, along the 
winding Klondike, and to the far-off snowy ridge of 
the Rockies, haze-blue in the distance yet distinct 
against the skyline. 

And no visitor fails to see the cabin, smothered in 
flowers, which is treasured as one of Dawson’s “‘his- 


GOLDEN YUKON 313 


toric’ show-places, for here Robert W. Service lived 
for a time. 

It is a far cry from Vera Cruz to Dawson; yet for 
street-cleaning purposes both have adopted the same 
unique plan. In Vera Cruz refuse is poured into the 
streets, and flocks of buzzards, kept for the purpose, 
quickly make way with it. In Dawson ravens are the 
scavengers, and there is a heavy fine for killing one 
of these efficient street-cleaners. 

About six miles down the Yukon from Dawson a few 
weed-grown ruins show where Fort Reliance once 
stood. A quarter-century before Dawson came into 
being, this was a thriving trading-post. Jack McQues- 
ten had established it ; and in its early days, when he and 
his partners had to leave for a short trip, they cached 
_ their supplies, including some rat-poison. Indians 
searched out the cache and robbed it; and believing the 
poison to be some choice delicacy they spread it gener- 
ously over a salmon they were cooking. Soon two old 
women and a girl lay dead. When McQuesten re- 
turned, there was a heated powwow; and the Indians 
finally agreed to pay, in pelts, for all the goods they 
had stolen if he, in turn, would pay for the two old 
women and the girl who were poisoned. To this he 
could only agree, for these were his traders and he 
depended on their goodwill. To protect himself, how- 
ever, he put an unusually high price on all the stolen 
goods; and then asked, with many misgivings, what he 
owed for the poisoned ones. Another powwow en- 
sued. Then he was told that the girl was strong, able 


314 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


to do much work, so she was worth ten pelts—about 
six dollars—while as to the two old women, they were 
valued at nothing, for they were nuisances. 

The town of Fortymile is about sixty miles below 
Dawson. The Yukon here receives the water of Forty- 
mile Creek, which well might have been named the 
Creek of the Golden Sands. The river is very swift, 
running in places through narrow, high-walled canyons, 
at other places shut in between towering mountains. 
Most of its course lies in Alaska. Gold was discovered 
on Fortymile and its tributary creeks in 1885, and 
through all the years this region has produced con- 
stantly. After the spring freshets gold is found lodged 
in the bars that cross many of the canyons, where the 
swift water has washed it down. 

‘Liars’ Island,” in the Yukon near Fortymile, is 
reminiscent of the early days when a group of old- 
timers met here weekly and took turns in exercising 
their imaginations. They called themselves the Forty 
Liars; for even though there were only a half-dozen 
or so of them, they considered that their lies were big 
enough to have been told by forty men. 

Were a raven to fly from Fortymile to the Alaska 
border, he could cover the distance in twenty miles or 
less. But the Yukon is in no hurry to reach American 
territory; it wanders in and out, twisting and turning, 
for a good forty miles before it leaves Canada and 
becomes Alaska’s great river. The mountains rising 
abruptly on both sides are a series of ridges, their 
points out-thrust into the river, low wild valleys in 


GOLDEN YUKON 315 


between. This part of the Yukon’s course, as it bids 
farewell to Canada, is superbly picturesque. 

Beyond the boundary, in Alaska, the first town is 
Eagle, a trading and out-fitting post, with scarcely a 
hundred inhabitants. 

The northern part of Yukon is a vast and almost 
unknown stretch of forests and barren grounds, much 
of it mountainous, some of it rolling tundra. About 
midway the Arctic Circle swings through it. 

The Peel River, with its headwaters not far from 
the Alaska border, sweeps eastward across this desolate 
stretch in tortuous windings to avoid the hills that crop 
up, then turns north and ends eventually in the delta of 
the Mackenzie. The Peel has innumerable tributaries, 
both large and small, which have not yet been explored, 
much less prospected. It is not impossible that one of 
these may some day startle the world afresh, and open 
up a new area of gold-lined Yukon. 

The Porcupine River, rising in a chain of lakes near 
the headwaters of the Peel, rushes northward in a 
wild course of rapids and waterfalls, canyons and nar- 
row mountain-gorges; then describes an immense horse- 
shoe and comes back sedately to cross into Alaska and 
join the Yukon above the Arctic Circle, where Fort 
Yukon looks out upon both rivers. The entire region 
within this horseshoe is mountainous, and there are 
countless creeks as yet unexplored; but it would take 
a hardy adventurer to prospect here, for more than 
half of the area lies north of the Arctic Circle; and 


316 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


even as far south as the Klondike the ground is per- 
petually frozen a few feet below the surface. 

Old Crow River starts hopefully toward the Arctic 
Ocean, but it gets frightened when it meets a range of 
hills, and turns and rushes with all haste southward to 
the Porcupine. At least, that is what the Eskimos will 
tell you; for they have a legend about this stream, which 
they called the Running Hare River. A little snow- 
lake lay in a mountain bow]; and in the high grasses on 
its rim lived an Arctic hare. A raven flying that way 
had swooped down to the lake and while he lingered 
he told Hare tales of the outside world, told him of the 
whales in the Frozen Sea and the Polar bears that 
climbed over the ice. Hare had not believed that any 
fish could be greater than the trout in his lake nor any 
animal larger than himself, so he set out to see these 
monsters; and all along the way his feet made a track 
in the soft snow. Soon he came to a range of hills and 
sat down to rest. Now, back at the lake the Northern 
Lights were playing in the sky and they dropped a ball 
of fire. It fell in the track Hare had made and started 
rolling after him; but all along it melted the snow as 
it went and a river began to appear. When Hare saw 
the fire and a river rushing at him, he turned and ran 
southward as fast as he could go; but the fire followed 
him, because it was easier to roll in his tracks and the 
fire was now running away from the river, which was 
just behind it and would quench it. When Hare reached 
the Porcupine River he jumped on a log, but the fire 
fell into the water and was drowned, and the melted 


GOLDEN YUKON 317 


snow in Hare’s tracks remained ever after as the Run- 
ning Hare River. 

The Arctic coast is a desolate region. The Beaufort 
Sea lies here, with Mackenzie Bay curving back into the 
coast where Yukon ends at the edge of the Mackenzie 
delta. Isolated mountains and low hills edge the sea; 
and lying offshore are a few lonely islands. Herschel 
Island was at one time an important trading-post, and a 
haven for ships sailing the Frozen Sea. Eskimos, 
engaged mostly in whale-fishing, live on the island, and 
roam about the mainland, a contented and happy peo- 
ple, for all their frigid world. 

Yukon winters have cold days and colder nights, but 
summer, especially in the Yukon Valley, is delightful. 
The summers are short, and in that brief space nature 
utilizes every moment and clothes the land in a luxuri- 
ance of wild-flowers and flowering shrubs. Dense for- 
ests timber all the valleys and the lower reaches of the 
mountains; and mingled with the somber blue-green of 
the spruce are poplar and birch with a varied, gay 
green; and along the streams are fluffy willows, their 
delicate foliage drooping over masses of jewelweeds. 
Yukon more than atones, in her brief summer, for the 
snow and ice of the winter. But even the winters have 
tneir delights. When the ice jams in the river and 
becomes a solid mass from bank to bank, it is time to 
get out the dog-sleds and polish up the sleighbells, to 
look to the snowshoes and adjust the keel on the ice- 
boats. 

Whether summer or winter, there is a fascination 


318 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


in the Yukon; there is a lure that beckons from afar, 
a magnet that grips and doesn’t let go. 


“The snows that are older than history, 
‘The woods where the weird shadows slant; 
The Stillness, the moonlight, the mystery— 
I’ve bade ’em good-bye—but I can’t!” 


Zahir LURE OF THE NORTH 


THE NorTHWEST TERRITORIES 

WHERE Eskimos MEET 

THE PROVISIONAL DistrRicT OF KEEWATIN 
AT BAKER LAKE 

A LEGEND OF BUBAWNT LAKE 

THE GREAT FISH RIVER 

“RUPERT’S LAND” 

THE PROVISIONAL DisTRICT OF MACKENZIE 
A LEGEND OF GREAT SLAVE LAKE 

THE COPPERMINE RIVER 

A Mosquito LEGEND 

THE MACKENZIE RIVER 

A LEGEND OF GREAT BEAR LAKE 

THE RAMPARTS OF THE MACKENZIE 

THE Hare INDIANS 

THE PROVISIONAL DISTRICT OF FRANKLIN 
THE FRANKLIN TRAGEDY 

THE GREAT NORTH 


‘ 


i 


at i 


RR Te | 
i y i teva at P 





4 


‘ ' 
Vise sey %) 
reaie he? HAW ar 
f ; at f 


XI 
THE LURE OF THE NORTH 


“Down in the west the shadows rest, 
Little gray wave, sing low, sing low! 
With a rhythmic sweep o’er the gloomy deep 
Into the dusk of the night we go, 
And the paddles dip and lift and slip, 
And the drops fall back with a pattering drip; 
Little gray wave, sing low, sing low!” 
—Laura E. McCully 


HE Northwest Territories hold the fascina- 
tion of the unknown, for there are vast areas 
on which no white man has set foot. Eskimos 

live about Hudson Bay and the Arctic coast. Caribou- 
eaters, Yellowknives, Dogribs, and other Indians roam 
through the interior, which is covered with a network 
of streams and lakes. In the south there are forests, 
and in the river-valleys trees extend even to the Arctic. 
The “‘barren grounds” teem with wild-animal life; and 
even the edge of the Frozen Sea has its Polar bears, 
herds of muskoxen, reindeer, Arctic foxes, and many 
smaller creatures. 

There are three Provisional Districts in this im- 
mense region: Keewatin, including Hudson Bay and the 
country north of Manitoba; Mackenzie, extending 


from Keewatin to Yukon, from Saskatchewan and 
321 


322 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


Alberta to the Polar Sea; and Franklin, which covers 
the islands and peninsulas of the Far North. 

In 1497 John Cabot landed on Cape Breton Island, 
and Henry VII was so vastly pleased by his discoveries 
that early in 1498 Cabot was authorized to ‘‘take at 
his pleasure VI. englisshe shippes and theym convey 
and lede to the londe and iles of late founde by the 
seid John.’”’ And on this second voyage he reached 
what is now Baffin Land, just west of Greenland and 
part of the Provisional District of Franklin. Believ- 
ing it to be Asia, Cabot sailed southward to find Japan. 

From that time the search for the North-West Pas- 
sage to China occupied navigators, and little by little 
islands and straits and bays in this Arctic world were 
discovered and mapped. In 1576 Martin Frobisher, 
one of the greatest navigators of Queen Elizabeth’s 
day, reached Baffin Land and, entering Frobisher Bay, 
sailed up it to see “whether hee mighte carrie himself 
through the same into some open sea on the backe 
syde.” Both Cartier and Champlain were searching 
for this passage when they sailed up the St. Lawrence 
River. John Davis discovered Hudson Strait and 
named it the Furious Overfall, but did not attempt to 
see where it led; and in 1610 Hendrik Hudson, in the 
Discovery, sailed into the Furious Overfall and picked 
his way through the icefloes till he came to the great 
bay which now bears his name. Still believing he might 
find the North-West. Passage, he crossed the bay and 
cruised along its western coast. There winter found 
him, with a mutinous crew; and when spring came and 


THE LORE OR AB INORTH 228 


the ice broke up, Hudson and seven sick men were set 
adrift in a small boat and deserted. Whether they 
succeeded in landing and were lost in the forests, or 
killed by Indians or beasts, or whether icecakes crushed 
their little boat and they perished in the great bay will 
never be known; but mariners claim that Hudson’s 
small craft, filled with the sick men, still may be seen, 
on nights in late June, drifting helplessly about James 
Bay. 

James Bay, the great southern arm of Hudson Bay, 
is scattered with islands. “Two chains of islands, like 
mountain-peaks lifting above the water, stretch along 
the eastern coast of Hudson Bay, and there are shoals 
on the west coast. The heart of the bay, for about 
three hundred thousand square miles, is an islandless 
sea, subject to great storms and heavy fogs, but a 
magnificent stretch of water. Mansfield, Coates and 
Southampton Islands reach across the northern end of 
the bay; and a few small islands lie off the Keewatin 
mainland. The most picturesque of these is Marble 
Island, a huge mass of white granite, so dazzling under 
sunshine that it is mistaken for an iceberg when drift- 
ing fog half veils it. 

On the mainland opposite Marble Island the Eski- 
mos have one of their great gathering-grounds; for 
hundreds of miles they come to be here for the mid- 
summer festivity—men, women, children, and espe- 
cially dogs. A great business in bartering is done at 
this time. Eskimos from the Arctic coast offer knives 
and spears fashioned in ivory; those from Baker Lake 


324 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


bring berries and willow-baskets; others have imple- 
ments of beaten copper. 

The mainland of Keewatin—the district directly 
north of Manitoba—is largely “‘barren ground,” with 
mosses. and lichens covering the hills of the north, and 
willows edging the streams; tall grasses and sedges, 
scattered cranberry-bushes and dwarfed trees farther 
south; and stretches of forest alternating with prairie 
hills at the Manitoba border. Wild mustard spreads 
over vast areas, coloring the gray-green hills with glow- 
ing yellow. Saxifrage also grows in great masses, its 
flowers strangely beautiful in this lonely world. From 
the countless lakes that lie scattered about Keewatin, 
streams find their way down to Hudson Bay, forming 
swift rapids and low waterfalls in their descent. 

Chesterfield Inlet reaches back from Hudson Bay 
to Baker Lake, where there is an oasis of vegetation 
that is all the more lovely for the bleak landscape that 
surrounds it. Grass-grown banks, scattered with flow- 
ers, edge the lake; sedges crowd in here and there; and 
willows and poplars, cottonwoods and occasional pines, 
defy the cold winds of the north. During the summer 
months the lake is lively with the screams of water- 
fowl and with the quarreling of countless Eskimo dogs 
as their owners camp beside the lake. 

Through Chesterfield Inlet and Baker Lake there is 
an almost continuous water-route either westward to 
Great Slave Lake, or southwest to Lake Athabasca. 
The latter route passes through Bubawnt Lake, lying 
on the boundary between Keewatin and Mackenzie. 


THE LURE OF THE NORTH aac 


Bubawnt is even larger than Baker Lake, and far more 
lonely. The Copperknives say that where this lake 
now is, Great Hare once lived in the midst of a pine 
forest. The Copperknives, as most tribes, believed 
that the sky was merely a great dome, and in the world 
beyond it all the Above-people lived. In the days be- 
fore there were Indians, one of the Above-people tore 
a hole in the sky, and before the Cloud-people could 
mend it so much water poured down that Great Hare’s 
lodge was floating in the midst of a broad sea which 
covered the tops of the pine-trees. Great Hare turned 
the pine-needles into fishes—and Bubawnt Lake is to- 
day filled with them—gave his lodge to the Beaver- 
people, and went elsewhere. 

The northern reaches of Keewatin lie beyond the 
Arctic Circle, and except for their Eskimo inhabitants 
they are rarely visited. Vast herds of muskoxen 
roam here, feeding on the moss and lichens and on the 
herbs that grow along sheltered creeks. Even at the 
edge of the Arctic there are willows and occasional 
dwarfed pines. 

Back’s Great Fish River flows through this lonely 
northern land after a winding and spectacular course 
from a little lake in Mackenzie. Leaving this lakelet, 
the river almost at once broadens into a tormented 
lake with twisted shores; it narrows again to a river; 
and two hundred miles or so farther changes to a chain 
of lakes, the largest of which is Lake Garry, broad and 
very irregular, the gray-blue water dotted with yellow 
islands. After a few more lakes, the Great Fish River 


326 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


is content to wind on through low hills to the Arctic 
coast. 

Keewatin is the Cree word for ‘‘North Wind,” and 
it was given to the district when it reached down into 
the Cree country, about midway of Lake Winnipeg and 
almost to Lake Superior, thus including all the western 
coast of Hudson Bay. 

It was this region that Charles II. intended to cover 
in his grant, in 1670, to Prince Rupert and seventeen 
others—‘‘the Governour and Company of Adventurers 
of England trading into Hudson’s Bay’’—giving them 
the fur-trading rights west of the bay as far as the 
watershed; but his wording was vague, and the Hud- 
son’s Bay Company, as the “Gentlemen Adventurers”’ 
became known, chose to claim for “Rupert’s Land” all 
the territory they cared to invade. Furs were so plenti- 
ful, and were shipped to London in such quantities, that 
only a year after the charter was granted a great public 
sale had to be held, for lack of storage-room. The 
Prince of Wales, the Duke of York and many other 
distinguished persons were present at the sale. Dryden, 
the poet, scribbled on the margin of a letter, while he 
stood among the crowd: 


“Friend, once ’twas Fame that led thee forth 
To brave the Tropic Heat, the Frozen North, 
Late it was Gold, then Beauty was the Spur; 
But now our Gallants venture but for Fur.” 


A hundred years later many independent traders 
went into the northwest, and soon combined as the 


THE LURE OF THE NORTH 327 


North-West Trading Company of Montreal. They 
absorbed an upstart ‘“‘“X. Y. Company’’; and after con- 
stant quarreling and bloodshed between the Nor’- 
Westers and the Hudson’s Bay these two were amal- 
gamated in 1821 as the Hudson’s Bay Company. To- 
day throughout all the Northwest Territories there are 
lonely Hudson’s Bay posts where Indian and Eskimo 
trappers still bring in their pelts. 

In the Provisional District of Mackenzie, the Great 
Slave Lake holds first interest. It covers nearly ten 
thousand square miles, and its shores are so irregular 
that bays and inlets extend into the coast from ten to 
fifty miles. ‘The Slave River brings the water north 
from Lake Athabasca, rushing over a series of rapids, 
some of which are too violent for a canoe. Those at 
Portage des Noyes form an unusually lovely stretch of 
the river. The foaming water, remarkably clear, is 
edged with birch and alders and occasional clumps of 
spruce. Wild buffalo roam over the plains beyond the 
tree-fringe, and smaller animals scurry through the 
bush-patches found on the hillslopes or drink at lonely 
lakes lying in the valleys. 

The western shore of Great Slave Lake is well tim- 
bered, largely with spruce and willows. Many beaver- 
swamps reach back from the lake, and wild-fowl in 
great numbers summer here. 

The Slave Indians—so called because they fled north 
rather than be slaves of the Crees—brought with them 
many legends in which Great Hare figures. One of 
these has to do with the spruce-trees about Great Slave 


328 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


Lake. All spruce-trees, they say, originally were only 
poles, with neither branches nor leaves. When Great 
Hare was traveling through this country, in the form 
of an Indian youth, he came to the lodge of an old 
woman and asked for something to eat. She gave him 
a fish she had caught in the lake; and when he had 
eaten it she laid the bones in a pile on the ground and, 
marching round them three times, crooned a low song. 
The bones turned into a green ribbon-like substance 
which the old squaw ate with great relish. The Indian 
then asked for another fish, and this time he laid the 
bones on the ground himself and sang over them as 
she had done. The green ribbon appeared, but when 
he attempted to eat it, it turned into wood, and in 
anger he threw it into the forest of poles. There it 
broke into splinters and clung to the trees, and ever 
since the spruce has had boughs and leaves. 

The Dogrib Indians and the Yellowknives also live 
in the Great Slave Lake region and northward. 

The lake was discovered in 1771 by Samuel Hearne, 
a Hudson’s Bay Company trader who was sent north 
from Fort Prince of Wales, at the mouth of the 
Churchill River, to find copper mines which the Indians 
from the north reported. Twice he had to turn back; 
but on his third attempt he reached the Coppermine 
River and followed it to its mouth in the Arctic Ocean, 
thus being the first white man to reach the ‘‘Sea of Ice” 
overland. The Copper Indians showed great curiosity 
when Hearne came among them, for they had never 
even heard of a white man. ‘They expressed as much 


THE LURE OF THE NORTH 329 


desire to examine me from top to toe as a naturalist 
would a nondescript animal,” Hearne wrote. ‘They, 
however, pronounced me a perfect human being, except 
in the color of my hair and eyes; the former, they said, 
was like the stained hair of a buffalo’s tail, and the 
latter, being light, were like those of a gull.” 

The Coppermine River is one of the large and im- 
portant rivers of Mackenzie. It rises in a network 
of lakes and cuts its way northward through ridges of 
hills, to empty into Coronation Gulf. Willows and 
dwarfed pines edge the stream, and the rounded hills 
are covered with the low shrub which the Indians called 
Wishakapakka, “Broth,” but the Hudson’s Bay men 
named Labrador tea. From its leaves a palatable and 
nourishing tea is brewed. Cranberries grow about the 
lakes and marshes, and bear as well as muskoxen and 
many caribou come here to feed. Vast stretches of the 
plains resemble plowed ground, where bear have clawed 
it up to dig out squirrels and mice. 

There are parts of this north country, however, that 
for some reason are shunned by animals. David 
Thompson traveled hungrily through such a region, 
and then commented caustically upon a book he had 
read about this country. ‘“‘The author says the in- 
teriour has Myriads of Wild Animals. The Natives 
will thank him to show them where they are. When 
he wrote those words he must have been thinking of 
Musketoes, and in this respect he was right.” 

The troublesome mosquitoes, the Dogribs say, were 
caused when a young brave killed a giant by shooting 


330 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


him in the ankle. “Even though you kill me,” said the 
giant, ‘‘yet will I bite you.’’ A huge funeral pyre was 
made, to burn the giant so dead that he could do no 
harm; but the ashes all turned to mosquitoes and flew 
away to bite men. 

On Hearne’s return from Coppermine River to Fort 
Prince of Wales he discovered the Great Slave Lake, 
and crossed it on the ice. 

Nearly twenty years later Alexander Mackenzie 
crossed it, searching for the “Big River’? which the 
Dogribs told him left Great Slave Lake and went off 
into the mountains. They themselves had never fol- 
lowed it, for it was guarded by great monsters who 
were the servants of a Fire Demon. Mackenzie set 
out in 1789 to follow the Big River—now the Macken- 
zie—to its mouth, hoping thus to reach the Pacific 
Ocean. Instead he came to the Arctic, and named the 
great river he had discovered, the Disappointment. 

The Mackenzie River, including the Slave, the 
Peace, and the Finlay, which form one great waterway, 
is more than two thousand miles long. “—The Mackenzie 
proper extends from Great Slave Lake northward to 
the Arctic, roughly paralleling the Rocky Mountains 
on Yukon’s eastern boundary. Its greatest tributary 
from the south is the Liard River, which rises in 
Yukon, sweeps through British Columbia in a great 
horseshoe loop, and then cuts its way through the 
Rockies and runs in an erratic course northward to join 
the Mackenzie. Fort Simpson is located where these 





Courtesy, Dept. of the Interior, Canada 


THE RAMPARTS OF THE MACKENZIE 
Spectacular palisades of white, fantastically eroded, edge the great 
river for miles. 











oe ee ie 
ses ee 2 
eee 3 Saaeeee = 












Dept. of the Interior, Canada 





Courtesy, 


CARIBOU ISLAND 
The islands of Slave River are crowded with evergreen trees. 


THE LURE OF THE NORTH 331 


two great rivers, the Mackenzie and the Liard, come 
together. 

Much of the Mackenzie River’s course lies through 
the mountains, the eastern spurs of the Rockies; and 
at moments the river becomes extraordinarily spectac- 
ular. The water is rapid, and islands of tree-covered 
rock crop up in midstream. Spruce and birch and pop- 
lars grow thickly along the banks; and crowded be- 
neath and between them there is a luxuriant tangle of 
berry-bushes—gooseberries, raspberries, strawberries, 
currants, and large huckleberries, called by the voya- 
geurs poires, all grow together in great profusion. 

Dogrib and Hare Indians are seen along the way, 
and stories of the Fire Demon become more frequent. 
The legends of a demon who breathes fire were no 
doubt founded upon the burning lignite along the Great 
Bear River. ‘This stream connects Great Bear Lake 
with the Mackenzie River, and immense deposits of 
coal and lignite lie not far from its banks. In 1789, 
when Mackenzie was there, the lignite was burning, 
and through all the years it never wholly has been 
extinguished. 

Great Bear Lake, spreading irregularly over nearly 
twelve thousand square miles of the heart of Macken- 
zie District, is surrounded by spruce forests, although 
on the northern shore the trees are somewhat dwarfed 
and scattered. The lake is so well stocked with fish 
that the Dogribs have a legend to explain their origin. 
In the days before the grandfathers, Wolverene, walk- 
ing beside the lake, saw a great flock of ducks and 


332 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


geese and loons on the water. ‘Come out and dance 
with me, brothers,” he called, ‘‘and I will sing you a 
song.” ‘They flew out and stood in a circle round 
Wolverene. ‘Now shut your eyes while you dance, 
and my song will sound sweeter,” he said. This, too, 
they did, and at the end of every few words Wolverene 
bit off the head of a duck; but none saw him because 
their eyes were all shut. They danced on and on, while 
he sang; until Loon got curious and opened one eye. 
There he saw the great pile of headless ducks, and 
screamed the alarm. ‘The dancers quickly flew away; 
and Wolverene then sat down and picked all his ducks, 
throwing the feathers into the lake beside him. As 
they reached the water they turned into fishes and 
swam away, and the ducks, as fast as he picked them, 
became boulders. So Wolverene went away hungry; 
but he left the lake stocked with fishes for the Dogribs 
to eat when they came by. 

The forested hills and valleys about Great Bear Lake 
abound in game, especially in bears; one huge, choco- 
late-colored species is nearly as large as the Kodiak 
bear of Alaska, the largest in the world. Hearne re- 
ported great numbers of black bears here. “In the 
summer,” he wrote, “‘they swim up and down the north- 
ern rivers with their mouths open, swallowing the im- 
mense numbers of water insects which have come into 
being at that season.”’ Herds of reindeer roam over 
the plains beyond the forests, feeding on the abundant 
lichens. 

Fort Norman stands upon the high bank of the 


THE LURE OF THE NORTH 333 


Mackenzie where Great Bear River comes down from 
the east, from the vast territory covered by Great Bear 
Lake and its tributary rivers and lakes. Below this 
fort the Mackenzie becomes a majestic river indeed. 
Far off to the left the snowy ridge of the Rockies rises 
in ragged outline, white against a blue sky. 


“This dew-drenched Range, 
This infinite great width of open space, 
This cool keen wind that blows like God’s own breath 
On life’s once drowsy coal, and thrills the blood, 
This brooding sea of sun-washed solitude, 
This virginal vast dome of opal air— 
These, these endure.” 


The broad river with its many islands and its high 
rock-banks makes a sharp curve and for a long stretch 
flows over the turbulent Sans Sault Rapids. A short 
distance below this, the Ramparts of the Mackenzie 
rise in spectacular palisades of white limestone. With 
these ghostly walls flanking the river for about seven 
miles, and the stream gradually widening until it is 
more than a mile broad, the Mackenzie is stately and 
magnificent, sweeping on, unheeding of the loneliness, 
to its Far North sea. 

Hare River comes down from the hills to the east, 
from a region scattered with lakes, and where it enters 
the Mackenzie, at the end of the Ramparts, Fort Good 
Hope stands. This picturesque little post is proud of 
its fine crops and vegetable gardens, grown only a few 


334 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


miles south of the Arctic Circle. It might also be 
proud of the profusion and beauty of its flowers. In 
their brief summer they grow voluptuously, blooming 
in mad haste to reach the consummation of seeds before 
the first frost. 

This far northwest region is the country of the Hare 
Indians—the Eskimos keep to a strip along the Arctic 
coast. The Hares have many quaint beliefs. One of 
these is that all wolves are their grandfathers. They 
will never kill a wolf; and they even seek out the baby 
cubs and paint their faces with vermilion clay, so they 
will be great hunters when they grow big. One legend 
says that the very first Hare Indians had so many 
children they could not feed them, and they became 
lean and always hungry. The Great One then turned 
them into wolves. And since then Hares have re- 
spected wolves, as their relatives. 

The Lower Ramparts of the Mackenzie are almost 
as spectacular as the Upper Ramparts. These reach 
down the river to the beginnning of its delta, where the 
great Mackenzie separates into four main channels to 
reach the Arctic Ocean. There are innumerable smaller 
channels, the number of streams ever varying and ever 
changing their course. A few large islands and many 
smaller ones lie in the delta. These all are heavily 
wooded, for the Arctic coast here is wholly unlike the 
bleak and barren coast on the east. Aspen, birch, 
poplar and balm-of-Gilead grow among masses of 
berry-bushes and tall grass. 

Fort McPherson, the most northern Hudson’s Bay 


THE LURE ORATHE, NORTH 435 


post, stands on a wooded point where the Peel River, 
crossing Yukon, joins the Mackenzie at the beginning 
of the great delta. The Hudson’s Bay Company runs 
a steamer from its fort on Slave River to Fort Mc- 
Pherson, a distance of more than twelve hundred miles, 
through the wild and lonely but very beautiful Mac- 
kenzie Valley. 

The Mackenzie River ends its picturesque course 
in Mackenzie Bay, an arm of Beaufort Sea. 

The Provisional District of Franklin reaches across 
the Dominion from Davis Strait and Baffin Bay, on 
the east, to Alaskan waters on the west; and from the 
mainland as far north as Canadian possessions lie. 
Canada claims all land, discovered or undiscovered, 
between the Dominion mainland and the North Pole; 
but other nations dispute her claim to certain discoy- 
ered and all undiscovered territory. 

In the western end of the district Banks Island and 
Victoria Island, side by side, are lonely lands, icebound 
much of the year, inhabited only by a few Eskimos 
engaged in seal and whale fishing. Prince of Wales, 
North Somerset, King William, all are similar islands 
11 this Frozen Sea. 

‘ Boothia Peninsula, extending northward from 
Keewatin mainland, is notable because of the North 
Magnetic Pole, located in its southwest corner. Across 
the Gulf of Boothia, to the east, is Melville Peninsula, 
also reaching out from Keewatin, and lying directly 
north of Hudson Bay. The broad Fox Channel, never 
free 0° ice-floes, lies east of this peninsula; and curving 


336 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


about it, all but enclosing it, is the bleak Baffin Island, 
its eastern coast rising into mountains almost solidly 
coated with ice. wo vast lakes lie in the interior of 
the island, while Cumberland Sound and Frobisher Bay 
reach raggedly far into the eastern shore. 

Herds of muskoxen feed in the sheltered valleys of 
Baffin Island, and form a welcome food supply for the 
whalers in Davis Strait and Bafin Bay—which separate 
Baffin Island from Greenland. As cold and bleak as 
the land is, Eskimos are at home here. The muskox 
provides them with many of their needs, including mos- 
quito masks which they make from its long hair. 
Mosquitoes, they believe, are spirits of the departed 
who are being punished for some crime before they are 
allowed to enter Ghost Land. 

The district was named in honor of Sir John Frank- 
lin, the discoverer of the North-West Passage, for 
which so many had sought for more than three cen- 
turies. : 

Already Franklin had explored much of this north- 
west coast, when he set out from England in 1845, in 
command of the Erebus and the Terror, to search 
again for the elusive channel. Fourteen years later the 
tragic fate of the two ships and Franklin’s party be- 
came known, when in 1859 the fragments of the tale 
finally were gathered together. Franklin actually had 
discovered the long-sought passage—through Fury and 
Hecla Strait; and his party had wintered on King Wil- 
liam Island. There ice-floes destroyed the two ships; 


THE LURE OF THE NORTH 337 


sickness and famine came; and on that lonely island 
Sir John died. With Franklin dead and their boats 
destroyed, the remnant of the party could only start 
over the ice for Back’s River, which would carry them 
to a Hudson’s Bay post; but cold and famine and 
fatigue took them one by one, and their route, found 
so many years later, was tragically marked by their 
skeletons. 

Even this frozen, remote world of the north has its 
glowing, heroic history. The Northwest Territories 
—Keewatin, Mackenzie, Franklin—lie not as a vast 
stretch of desolate, forbidding land, swept by icy winds 
and buried in eternal snow; but as a land rich in beauty, 
steeped in the history and romance of the past, and 
full of promise for the future. 

The territories are rich in minerals, silver, gold, 
copper, iron, coal. Their fur supply is almost unlim- 
ited; great and quick fortunes could be made in animal- 
farming on the scientific basis now used in fox-farming. 
Oil already is adding much wealth to the territories. 
The forests offer pulpwood. And the rivers and lakes 
have an endless supply of fish. 

The adventure-seeker will find no dull moments; and 
the nature-lover will delight in the wild-animal and 
bird life and in the myriad of flowers that bloom even 
on the “barren grounds,” enlivening the short summer 
with a glory of bright color. 

There is much of beauty here, in this land of the 
sweeping open spaces, this land of the primeval forests 


338 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


and prairies and moss-covered hills where nature’s 
handiwork has been unmarred, almost unseen, by man. 


“Let us probe the silent places, let us seek what luck 
betide us, 
Let us journey to a lonely land I know. 
There’s a whisper on the night-wind, there’s a star 
agleam to guide us, 
And the wild is calling, calling. . . Let us go.” 


XII. CANADIAN NATIONAL PARKS 


Fort ANNE, Nova Scotia 
Fort Howe, New Brunswick 
Point PELEE, Ontario 
MENISSAWOK, Saskatchewan 
WawaskKESsEY, Alberta 
NEMISKAM, Alberta 
Burra.o, Alberta 

ELk IsLanp, Alberta 

Jasper, Alberta 

Rocky Mountains, Alberta 
WATERTON LAKEs, Alberta 
Youo, British Columbia 
Koorenay, British Columbia 
GuacikER, British Columbia 
REVELSTOKE, British Columbia 





XII 
CANADIAN NATIONAL PARKS 


“Here is the perfume of the leaves, the incense 
of the pines— 
The magic scent that hath been pent 
Within the tangled vines: 
No censer filled with spices rare 
E’er swung such sweetness on the air.” 
—Virna Sheard 
HE most magnificent of Canada’s scenery has 
been set aside “for the benefit and enjoy- 
ment of the people’; and Americans, as well 
as Canadians, are deriving health and joy and outdoor 
recreation in the midst of the great scenic beauty of 
the Canadian National Parks. The Rocky Mountains 
Park, including the Banff and Lake Louise districts, 
Jasper Park, Waterton Lakes, Yoho, Kootenay, 
Glacier, Revelstoke, are visited by increasing thousands 
each year. Not only are they made accessible by fast 
and comfortable trains, running through a country that 
itself is full of interest, but some of the most scenic 
roads in the world beckon motorists on and on, to 
Canada’s great vacation-land, her National Parks. 

In addition to those vast areas which are preserved. 
because of the grandeur of their scenery, that future 
generations may know and enjoy the sublimity of the 
Rockies and the Selkirks, the Canadian National Parks 

341 


342 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


include also certain areas set aside solely as animal 
reserves; and other areas which are historic sites of 
national interest. 

Of the great historic sites, there are now two that 
are National Parks: Fort Anne, at Annapolis Royal, 
Nova Scotia; and Fort Howe, at St. John, New Bruns- 
wick. There are more than sixty other sites of especial 
historic interest which later may be created National 
Parks. 

Fort Anne * is steeped in the history—tragic, ro- 
mantic, always heroic—of the very earliest days of 
New France, and of the later French and English strug- 
gles for supremacy in Acadia. Here was constructed 
the first vessel built north of Mexico, and the first 
grist-mill in America. “The ruins now preserved are of 
the fort which replaced the brave little buildings erected 
by Champlain, De Monts. and Poutrincourt in 1605. 

Fort Anne National Park, comprising thirty-one 
acres, was created in 1917, and lies in a delightful 
situation between the apple-orchards of Annapolis Val- 
ley and the sparkling blue water of Annapolis Basin. 

Fort Howe,* commanding the harbor of St. John, 
was built during the American Revolution; while 
nearby is the site of Fort La Tour, so closely connected 
with Canada’s early history. Fort Howe National 
Park, created in 1914, and covering nineteen acres, 
marks also the site of the landing of several thousand 
colonists, who hastened there from the United States 


*For a fuller description of Fort Anne, see page 24. For Fort 
Howe, see page 47. 


CANADIAN NATIONAL PARKS 343 


at the close of the American Revolution. Known in 
the United States as ‘“Tories,”’ they are proudly called 
in Canada “United Empire Loyalists.” 

Of an entirely different nature is St. Lawrence 
Islands National Park,* in Ontario, created in 1904 as 
a recreational center in the midst of the exquisite beauty 
of the Thousand Islands of the St. Lawrence. There 
are twelve islands and one mainland reservation, com- 
prising one hundred and sixty-five acres, some of the 
islands having been secured directly from the Missis- . 
sagua Band of Indians. That the greatest amount of 
enjoyment may be had, in this recreational park for 
summer campers and visitors, the Government has 
erected pavilions, wharves, bathhouses, picnicking- 
grounds, and other conveniences for the summer holi- 
day-seeker. Many thousands visit these islands each 
year, and delight in their beauty or enjoy their various 
sports. 

Point Pelee National Park,* covering four square 
miles where Ontario extends a point into the western 
end of Lake Erie, is a bird sanctuary—as well as the 
most southerly point in Canada. Although this park 
was created only in 1918, thousands of migratory birds 
already have learned that in their northern flight they 
need go no farther; for here they have a veritable 
bird’s paradise. Many unusual trees and plants also 
thrive on this point; and these as well as the birds 
attract visitors by the thousands each year. Point 


*For a fuller description of St. Lawrence Islands, see page 131. 
For Point Pelee, see page 138. 


344 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


Pelee Park is a favorite recreational center, with excel- 
lent motor-roads, camping-sites, bathing-beaches, and 
lake and forest scenery that is exquisite. But it is the 
birds that hold first interest. Pheasants and quail 
strut importantly and unafraid through the pleasant 
meadows; bird-houses, attracting tenants, are chat- 
tered about; songsters of many kinds keep the air 
throbbing with music. 


‘Joy on the branch and joy in the sky, 
And naught between but the breezes high; 
And naught so glad on the breezes heard 
As the gay, gay note of the indigo-bird.” 


In 1922 three large areas were set aside for antelope 
reserves. One of these, Menissawok National Park, 
covers seventeen square miles in the extreme south- 
western corner of Saskatchewan. This park has not 
yet been fenced, but small herds of wild antelope even 
now are seeking refuge there. | 

A similar antelope reserve, Wawaskesey National 
Park, covering fifty-four square miles, lies in south- 
eastern Alberta, north of Medicine Hat. This is a 
delightful stretch of prairie-land, scattered with lake- 
lets, where wild-fowl come, and marsh-flowers and 
shiny-leaved water-plants crowd between tall, feathery 
reeds. 

In Nemiskam National Park, covering eight and a 
half square miles in southern Alberta, near Foremost, 
there are about two hundred and fifty antelope, the 
largest herd in captivity. They are beautiful creatures; 





Vhoto., Leonard Frank 


TUMBLING GLACIER AND BERG LAKE 
Mount Robson, just beyond the boundary of Jasper National Park, is 
one of the attractions to the Jasper Park region. 


' 
} 


We ess 
Courtesy, Dept. 





ah 


of the Interior, Canada 


THE ILLECILLEWAET GLACIER 
Mount Sir Donald and its brilliant glacier stand guard over upper 
Cougar Valley, Glacier National Park. 


CANADIAN NATIONAL PARKS 345 


and a rarely lovely sight is a group of them, feeding 
unconcernedly on the sloping prairie where in the long- 
ago their ancestors had to keep a wary eye for the 
Indian’s arrow or for the gun of the pioneer. 

The most interesting animal reserve in Canada is at 
Wainwright, in eastern Alberta. This is Buffalo Na- 
tional Park, created in 1908, covering one hundred and 
sixty-one and a half square miles, and containing Can- 
ada’s National Buffalo Herd. In addition to the eight 
thousand or more buffalo, there are moose, elk, mule 
deer, antelope, cattalo and yak. The prairie-land alone 
is interesting, rolling away to the horizon, with hills 
here and there, with lanes of willows where creeks 
flow through, and occasional clumps of birch and cot- 
tonwood. 

An interesting experiment was tried at this park of 
feeding the buffalo sunflower fodder; they ate it greed- 
ily and thrived upon it as winter food. Another ex- 
periment was shearing the buffalo and converting the 
wool into cloth. About a thousand buffalo are born 
in the park each year; and so, before the winter sets 
in and the herd must be fed, many of the oldest are 
killed, their heads and robes sold and their meat used 
for pemmican, following an old Indian recipe. Pem- 
mican is much in demand in the Far North, and by 
those on a long trail through the wilds. 

In 1911 Elk Island National Park was created as an 
additional buffalo reserve. ‘This park covers fifty-one 
square miles in northern Alberta, near Lamont; and 
as part of the Cooking Lake Forest Reserve, it is a 


346 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


place of great scenic beauty. Spruce forests, tangled 
with undergrowth, shut in wild little reed-grown lakes. 
Broad meadows reach back, splashes of color from the 
myriads of flowers. There are more than three hun- 
dred buffalo here, besides elk, moose and mule deer, 
and countless birds that come to the park for pro- 
tection. Water-fowl, especially, have learned that they 
are safe here, and flock in from the outside the mo- 
ment they hear the first gunshot of open season. 

Elk Island Park also is a favorite recreational cen- 
ter, with picnicking-grounds, a bathing-beach on the 
lake, rustic benches and tables, and other camping con- 
veniences. 

Of the seven National Parks created solely because 
of their great scenic beauty, three are in Alberta. 

Jasper National Park* covers a vast mountain wil- 
derness, 4,400 square miles of wild grandeur—snow- 
steeped mountains, glacier-hung valleys, roaring tor- 
rents and deep rock-gorges. Emphasizing this rug- 
gedness by contrast are the timbered and flower-strewn 
valleys and the exquisitely colored lakes. ‘The beauty 
of these lakes is one of the most interesting features 
of Jasper Park. Lakes with water of clear amethyst 
lie beside those that are indigo-blue. Nearby are lakes 
of a startling green; others are of vivid ocher or dull 
chrome. Many are rose-purple; some are jade; and 
occasionally one will be seen so pale a green it is almost 
silver. | 

The wild-animal life is another great attraction in 


*For a fuller description of Jasper National Park, see pages 211-223. 


CANADIAN NATIONAL PARKS 347 


Jasper Park. Herds of wapiti, Virginia deer, wander 
about Patricia and Pyramid Lakes and over the Buffalo 
Prairie as if their ancestors always had lived there. 
Black and cinnamon bear are plentiful near the Whirl- 
pool River, and often wander far afield to the bunga- 
low camp on Lac Beauvert to see what choice titbits 
might be thrown out of the kitchen, or fed to them by 
some delighted tourist. Grizzlies prefer the Snake 
Indian Valley. They wander through the dense for- 
ests there, and winter in snug caves at the foot of 
beetling cliffs. Rocky Mountain sheep and goats, cari- 
bou and moose, are everywhere. Beaver, especially, 
labor happily, finding the beautifully colored lakes and 
the succulent young poplars entirely to their liking. 

Mount Robson, the highest peak in the Canadian 
Rockies, snow-white and majestic, rising just beyond 
the park boundary, is one of the many attractions to 
this region of glacier-hung mountains, colorful peaks 
and exquisite lakes. The main features within the park 
are the Athabasca Valley, Maligne Canyon, Miette 
Hot Springs, Pyramid Mountain, Mount Edith Cavell, 
Tonquin Valley, and Lac Beauvert. 

Jasper National Park was created in 1907. Directly 
southeast of it lies Rocky Mountains National Park,* 
created in 1885, and now covering 2,751 square miles. 
While the interest here centers about Banff and Lake 
Louise, the entire region is one of great scenic grandeur, 
with stupendous uplifts of bare rock, mighty snow- 


*For a fuller description of Rocky Mountains Park, see pages 
228-237. 


348 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


ranges, and flowing glaciers. Lakes lie cupped deep 
in mountain walls, with sheer rock or snow reaching 
from one to three thousand feet directly above them. 
Some of the most sublime scenery in the world is to be 
found in Rocky Mountains Park and the adjoining 
Yoho Park. 

Among the many delights of Rocky Mountains Park 

one of the most important is the network of pony- 
trails that lead to far-off and out-of-the-way corners. 
There are more than seven hundred miles of these 
trails, many of them radiating from Banff. 
_ Anglers choose the trail from Banff to Spray Lakes, 
where trout are plentiful and large. The scenery along 
this trail is exceptionally grand, with the Three Sisters, 
triple rock-peaks, reaching upward on one side and 
Goat Range cutting irregularly against the sky on the 
west. Another scenic trail is beyond Lake Minne- 
wanka, passing Aylmer Canyon and Devil’s Gap to 
Ghost River, the strange mountain torrent which dis- 
appears underground for about twelve miles. Years 
ago a wild white horse used to be seen drinking in the 
river, the Assiniboines say, and whenever they gave 
chase, the horse would run with miraculous speed to a 
certain point where both he and the river would dis- 
appear. [he Indians came to believe, then, that both 
the horse and the river were ghosts; and so Ghost 
River received its name. 

Trails lead also to the least-known parts of Rocky 
Mountains Park, which lie north of Banff, in the Red 
Deer and Panther River regions, and in the Pipestone 


CANADIAN NATIONAL PARKS — 349 


and upper Bow River Valleys. The upper Bow is mar- 
velously picturesque, flowing through a high mountain 
valley, with glaciers and snowfields flanking it on the 
west, and the great peaks of Dolomite and Mount 
Hector rising spectacularly on the east. Bow Lake 
and Hector Lake, in the upper Bow Valley, have a 
setting as wild and beautiful as any in the Rockies. 

Among the almost limitless scenic features in this 
oldest and second largest of the Canadian National 
Parks, the best-known are the Banff Hot Springs, the 
Johnston and Sundance Canyons, Mount Rundle and 
Mount Inglismaldie, Lake Minnewanka, Spray Lakes, 
the Bow Valley and the Hoodoos along Bow River, 
Lake Louise, Moraine Lake, and the Valley of the Ten 
Peaks. 


“Far from the haunts of man, and the weary clamor 
Of folk that forever toil without content, 
There let us rest and rejoice in the fragrant shadow 
Under the fir-tree’s tent.” 


Waterton Lakes National Park,* created in 1895 
for the preservation of its extraordinary scenery, and 
containing 220 square miles, is an international play- 
ground: not only because it adjoins United States 
Glacier National Park and shares with it the largest 
of its lakes, but because thousands of Americans 
already have discovered the charm of this park as a 


*For a fuller description of Waterton Lakes Park, see pages 
226-228. 


350 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


vacation-land and go there in increasing numbers each 
year. 

Many are attracted by the exceptional fishing and 
the scenic golf course, which are the boast of the park; 
others, motoring on the fine roads, cannot resist the 
camping-sites; but a greater lure is the grandeur of the 
scenery, from rugged, glacier-crowned mountains and 
immensely high waterfalls—tribbons of silver against 
multicolored cliffs—to pleasing flower-meadows, tim- 
bered valleys, and beautifully colored lakes. 

Many trails beckon the visitor. One leads to Vimy 
Mountain, which forms an exquisite picture, reflected, 
in all its many colors, in the soft waters of Lake Lin- 
net. Another climbs to Bertha Lake, a colorful little 
mountain gem, lying high in a rock-bowl, its garish 
walls rising to immense heights above and reaching, 
by reflection, deep into the water below. 

Four of the National Parks are in British Columbia. 

Yoho National Park,* created in 1886, and covering 
476 square miles, adjoins Rocky Mountains Park, with 
the Continental Divide between them. Where the rail- 
road passes from one of these parks to the other, the 
train stops at the very crest of the Divide—known to 
the Blackfeet as “the backbone of the world.” Here 
a stream, rushing down from the high mountain, sepa- 
rates, one part turning east, eventually to reach the 
Atlantic through Hudson Bay, the other choosing the 
wilder route westward to the Pacific. ‘The Shuswaps 
have a legend to explain this dividing of the waters. 


*For a fuller description of Yoho Park, see pages 243-253. 





Courtesy, Canazian Pacific 


THE GLORY OF EMERALD LAKE 
Mount Wapta duplicates its massive rock and snow in the leaf-green 
lake, Yoho National Park. 





Courtesy, Canadian Pacific 


VERMILION FALLS, KOOTENAY NATIONAL PARK 
Mud gathered here and mixed with bear-grease made a vermilion 
warpaint much in demand. 


CANADIAN NATIONAL PARKS 351 


In the long-ago the only fresh-water on earth was 
in a great willow basket, guarded by a Rock Demon 
at the top of this mountain. Eagle was chosen to steal 
the water; and in the fight with the Demon the basket 
was upset and the water began to rush down as a moun- 
taintorrent. Eagle grabbed his own empty basket and 
flew swiftly, and when he got ahead of the torrent he 
held his basket to catch it. But the water, once free, 
would not be confined—it flowed into the basket and 
gushed out at each end, east and west. And to this 
day Eagle’s spirit is there, holding his spirit-basket, 
but the water continues to overflow and rush east and 
west. The Moon Mother, seeing Eagle and unable to 
help him, wept; and her tears formed the little lake 
that now lies nearby, at the Great Divide. 

Immense snowfields and glacier-hung valleys, rising 
above dense pine forests, vivid green lakes, giant snow- 
crested peaks and wonderful waterfalls, give to Yoho 
National Park some of the grandest scenery in the 
world. Its most important features are the Yoho Val- 
ley, with Takakkaw Falls, fifteen hundred feet high, 
and Yoho Rapids; the Kicking Horse Canyon and 
Natural Bridge; Emerald Lake, Lake O’Hara and 
Lake McArthur. 

Kootenay National Park,* created in 1920, that the 
Banft-Windermere Highway might pass through Na- 
tional Park area, covers 587 square miles. The tur- 
bulent Vermilion River, with wild scenery, Marble 
Canyon, Sinclair Canyon, Iron Gates, and Radium Hot 


*For a fuller description of Kootenay Park, see pages 253 and 365. 


352 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


Springs are the outstanding features; but throughout 
the entire park there is great scenic beauty, varying 
from the snow-ranges on the Continental Divide to the 
broad valley-meadows and deep and fragrant forests 
that reach away to the Columbia Valley. 

Glacier National Park,* covering 468 square miles, 
was created in 1886 to preserve some of the grandeur 
of the Selkirks, that the magnificence of this older 
range might be contrasted with that of the newer 
Rockies. ‘There are vast fields of snow and ice, im- 
mensely deep valleys, rushing mountain torrents and 
spectacular waterfalls. ‘The Illecillewaet Glacier and 
icefield, covering ten square miles, the Nakimu Caves, 
the Asulkan Valley, Mount Sir Donald, Mount 
Wheeler, and Hasler and Grenz Peaks are the main 
attractions in this region of rare scenic splendor. 

Revelstoke National Park,* west of Glacier, was 
created in 1914, and covers one hundred square miles. 
It is claimed that this is the highest national park in 
the world. Mount Revelstoke lifts its summit where 
it may look out over the Clach-na-Coodin Snowfeld, 
see the wide Columbia River curving through its val- 
ley, and watch the Illecillewaet River rushing tortu- 
ously down to join the Columbia. Forests climb up the 
slopes and are scattered over the high plateau. 
Gay-petaled wild-flowers grow everywhere. Three de- 
lightful little lakes with horrid names—Eva, Millar, 
and Ella—add their silver-blue beauty. 


*For a fuller description of Glacier Park, see pages 258-264. For 
Revelstoke Park, see page 261. 


CANADIAN NATIONAL PARKS — 353 


Revelstoke Park is especially popular as a winter 
playground. It claims the finest ski-jump in America, 
and is proud of the world’s records that have been 
established there in various winter sports. 

The Commissioner of the Canadian National Parks 
says truly that no one can spend even a few hours in 
these parks ‘“‘without gaining a new conception of the 
greatness and beauty of Canada.” Nor can one view 
their inspiring scenery without a new spiritual growth, 
a deep and lasting consciousness of the Power that 
brought such sublimity, such massiveness, such beauty, 
such serenity, into being. 

The National Parks are Canada’s vast playgrounds, 
where one may have all the delights of vacation-time, 
and imbibe health and joy and verve from the mag- 
nificent surroundings. Those who go for a few days 
invariably linger for a few weeks, unable to resist the 
alluring camping-sites. 


“Who hath smelt wood-smoke at twilight? Who hath heard 
the birch-log burning? 
Who is quick to read the voices of the night? 
Let him follow with the others, for the young men’s feet 
are turning 
To the camps of proved desire and known delight.” 






* a 
, es a - 
.' \ a 
ep ee 
ih 
‘ Lt f 
} " 
> LD ye eee a 
. 4 ” *' pe - 


XIII. SCENIC ROADS FOR MOTORISTS 


MorTorRING IN CANADA 

THE TrRANS-CANADA HIGHWAY 

In PICTURESQUE NOVA SCOTIA 
Forest Roaps iN NEw BrRuNSWICK 
SOME QUEBEC ROADS 

THE NIAGARA FALLS GATEWAY 
THE BLUE WATER HIGHWAY 
MANITOBA HIGHWAYS 

PRAIRIE ROADS IN SASKATCHEWAN 
THE GRAND CIRCLE 

THE CALIFORNIA-BANFF BEE LINE 
THE GrRanD Canyon ROUTE 

THE CANADIAN ROCKIES CIRCLE 
THE BANFF-WINDERMERE HIGHWAY 
THE GOLDEN HIGHWAY 

ON THE CARIBOO TRAIL 

THE MALAHAT DRIVE 

In THE NATIONAL PARKS 


ri 


“Ty 


Pa toy Hodis I vy 


i 


tae 


i v9) oa WO 
’ ‘75% 
ial a i ite 


tii ius , 


yh 
* e va Maret 
Pee 


Den ti 





ey 
i) Aa 


shy 
AY ; 





Hi 


XIII 
SCENIC ROADS FOR MOTORISTS 


“The roving tide, the sleeping hills, 
These are the borders of that zone 
Where they may fare as fancy wills 
Whom wisdom smiles and calls her own.” 
—Bliss Carman 


Y the creation of the National Parks, Canada 
is preserving the grandest and most sublime 
of her scenery; and by the building and main- 

tenance of splendid roads, she is making this scenery 
accessible to countless thousands. Americans, espe- 
cially, are turning to Canada for their motor-outings, 
whether for a few days or a few weeks; for they find 
a peculiar delight in the friendliness and hospitality 
of the Canadians, and new joy in the scenic roads that 
reach from one end of the continent to the other. 
Canada has done much to make motoring through 
her provinces a pleasure. Free camping-grounds, with 
up-to-date conveniences, are placed along the main 
highways; all main roads are plainly marked; tourists’ 
associations and motor leagues in the principal cities 
cheerfully furnish helpful information; excellent roads, 
many of them paved, radiate from the large cities; 
357 


358 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


and there are magnificent highways that are maintained 
solely for the enjoyment of the motorist.* 

The “Red Trail,”’ with its markings in red and white, 
is the Trans-Canada Highway, reaching from Halifax, 
on the Atlantic, to Vancouver, on the Pacific. Bliss 
Carman may have had this scenic road in mind when 
he wrote: 


“It stretches from the open sea 

To the blue mountains and beyond; 
The world is Vagabondia 

To him who is a vagabond.” 


Beginning at Halifax, the Trans-Canada Highway 
passes through Truro, Moncton, St. John, Riviere du 
Loup, Quebec, Montreal, Ottawa, North Bay, Sud- 
bury and Sault Ste. Marie; it crosses Lake Superior by 
boat to Port Arthur, where a break in the main trail 
occurs and cars dip down into the United States, run- 
ning north again to Winnipeg. From Winnipeg the 
Red Trail sweeps directly west through Regina, Medi- 
cine Hat, Lethbridge, Fernie, Crow’s Nest Pass, Cran- 
brook, to Kootenay Lake. Here, at Kuskonook, 
motorists have a delightfully scenic boat ride, sixty- 
four miles, to Nelson, where again they follow the 
Trans-Canada Highway west through Trail, Grand 
Forks and Princeton; a short break where cars are 
shipped to Hope; and thence by a lovely valley road 
to Vancouver. 


*For fuller descriptions of places mentioned in this chapter, consult 
the Index. 


gpl, 





ie 4 
Courtesy, Dept. of the Interior, Canada 





ALONG THE BANFF-WINDERMERE HIGHWAY 
Wild animals are unafraid along this famous highway, for it lies in 
National Park territory. 


‘sty} se Ajnvaq yons ur sary ‘erquinjod yYsiig ‘uos[aN Jo AWD sy, 
AVMHOIH VAVNVO-SNVUL AHL NO 


apv«y, fo pavog uosjany ‘kSaqanogd 





SCENIC ROADS FOR MOTORISTS 359 


While the Red Trail is the standard highway across 
the continent, it has so many intersecting roads, so many 
beckoning bypaths, leading to places whose names alone 
are a fascination, that no one attempts to resist these 
lures and keep to the main trail. 

In Nova Scotia a popular road, the Black Diamond 
Trail, runs northward from Truro into Cape Breton 
Island, to Sydney, skirting the picturesque Bras d’Or 
Lake. The Bras d’Or Trail winds through this lovely 
lake region and leads off into the angler’s paradise— 
to the trout fishing in Lake Ainslee and salmon fishing 
in the scenic Margaree River. ‘The trail ends at 
Cheticamp, a delightful and wholly quaint little French 
Acadian village which climbs from the sea up into the 
hills. 

An important Nova Scotia road, the South Shore 
Highway, connects Halifax and Yarmouth, following 
the rugged coast for more than two hundred miles, 
sending branch-roads off into the hills where the lakes 
and fishing-streams and moose-pastures lie. From Yar- 
mouth up the Bay of Fundy coast the Evangeline Trail 
circles back to Halifax. 

Leaving Yarmouth, the trail runs through the inter- 
esting land where Acadians of today are living much 
as did their ancestors of three centuries ago, toiling in 
the fragrant orchards, or plodding beside their ox- 
teams, hauling hay out of the dyked meadows. At 
Digby, on Annapolis Basin, motorists always linger, 
partly because of the charm of this fishing village, 
partly because it is becoming a tradition for motorists 


360 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


to stop there. The Evangeline Trail runs on to Annap- 
olis Royal, the second oldest town north of Mexico; 
then up through the storied Annapolis Valley to Kent- 
ville, a quaint Acadian town with brooks chattering 
through elm-shaded streets; and on to Wolfville, where 
a detour may be made to Grand Pré. The temptation, 
however, is to linger at Wolfville; for in spite of its 
ferocious name, it is a delightful little Acadian village, 
in the heart of Evangeline Land, with a drowsy, restful 
charm all its own. From Wolfville the Evangeline 
Trail turns east, to sweep through Windsor, and wind 
across the peninsula, ending the circle at Halifax, ‘““The 
City by the Sea.” 

The Trans-Canada Highway, beginning at Halifax, 
swings north to Truro, and passes through a wholly 
charming region before crossing into New Brunswick 
at Amherst. 

Some of the loveliest roads in New Brunswick begin 
at St. Andrews or St. John, and follow beside the 
rugged Bay of Fundy coast or wind back through de- 
lightful stretches of woodland; but there are many 
alluring drives, beside the sea or in the forests, through- 
out this entire province. Prince Edward Island, also, 
is crisscrossed with excellent roads. 

From Quebec there are fine motor-roads in every 
direction, all of them extraordinarily scenic, running 
through deep evergreen forests, dipping through fra- 
grant meadows and farming communities, or following 
beside the picturesque St. Lawrence. 

A paved highway extends from Quebec to Murray 


SCENIC ROADS FOR MOTORISTS 361 


Bay, the popular summer-resort on the Lower St. Law- 
rence. This road runs through quaint French-Cana- 
dian villages, built against the hills, their bright church- 
spires a glittering landmark long before the tree-hidden 
houses are seen; it passes the beautiful Montmorency 
Falls, and lingers at Ste. Anne de Beaupré, the greatest 
Catholic shrine north of Mexico. 

A road with entrancing forest scenery runs from 
Quebec up through Indian Lorette and the wilds of 
the Lake Edward district, sending out branch-roads 
in all directions through that fascinating region of deep 
forests, rushing trout-streams and many blue lakes. 

The main Quebec-Montreal road—a section of the 
Red Trail—is a fine paved highway, clinging beside the 
scenic St. Lawrence, lingering at the historic old city 
of Trois Rivieres, where another paved road follows 
up the St. Maurice River to the Shawinigan Falls. At 
Lake St. Peter the Quebec-Montreal highway dips back 
into the country for a stretch, but comes again to the 
lake where all the wooded islands at the mouth of the 
Richelieu River lie. ‘The trail keeps then beside the 
St. Lawrence, swinging away for a brief run, but has- 
tening back, and remaining with the river even as it 
passes through Montreal. 

Montreal is in the heart of a veritable labyrinth of 
beautiful roads. None is more delightful than the one 
that girdles the island, skirting Lake St. Louis, and 
lingering beside the spectacular Lachine Rapids. The 
early explorers believed the St. Lawrence led ulti- 
mately to China. Thus the rapids were called Sault de 


362 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


la Chine. Champlain, in his search for the water-route 
to Cathay, reached the foot of the rapids in 1633 and, 
in spite of their fury, determined to see what lay be- 
yond. His Indian guides held back, declaring that no 
one could climb the River of the Eating Devils without 
being devoured. But Champlain pushed on; and ex- 
plains why he was forced to turn back, midway: 


“At our comming neere to the said Sault with our 
Skiffe and Canoa, I assure you, I neuer saw any streame of 
Water to fall downe with such force as this doth; although 
it bee not very high. It falleth as it were steppe by steppe; 
and in euery place where it hath some small heigth, it 
maketh a strong Boyling. In the breadth of the said Sault, 
there are many broad Rockes, and almost in the middest 
there are very narrow and long Ilands, where there is a 
Fall as well on the side of the said Iles which are toward 
the South, as on the North side: where it is so dangerous 
that it is not possible for any Man to pass with any Boat, 
how small soeuer it bee.” | 


An important highway connects Hamilton, Toronto 
and Kingston with Montreal, swinging around the 
northern shore of Lake Ontario. The Trans-Canada, 
leaving Montreal, skirts the Lake-of-the- wo-Moun- 
tains and climbs up beside the Ottawa River to the 
Capital city, sending many branch-roads down into 
Ontario’s lake-sprinkled vacation-land to the south. A 
highly scenic road from New York to Montreal follows 
the old Iroquois warpath—along Lake Champlain and 
the Richelieu River. 


SCENIC ROADS FOR MOTORISTS = 363 


The favorite entrance to Canada from the eastern 
United States is at Niagara Falls; for this route gives 
a view of the great cataract and the gorge, and also 
is the gateway to Ontario’s many-lakes district— 
Muskoka, Kawartha, Rideau, Algonquin Park. From 
Niagara Falls the motorist may sweep northward to 
Lake Ontario’s attractive resorts, and on to Hamilton, 
Toronto and Montreal; southward to Lake Erie’s 
sandy shore; or westward, over the fine London High- 
way, to Sarnia or Windsor, the gateways from Muichi- 
gan. 

One of the happiest roads in eastern Canada is the 
Blue Water Highway, which skirts the shore of Lake 
Huron and crosses to Georgian Bay. Motorists enter- 
ing Canada from Detroit strike this road at Windsor, 
and usually follow it northward beside Lake St. Clair 
and St. Clair River to Sarnia. ‘Thousands of motorists 
enter Canada at Sarnia, crossing from Port Huron. 

Sarnia claims one of the finest free motor-camps in 
the world. It has such conveniences as tent-floors, 
fireplaces, a cooking-house, city water, free fuel, tables 
and benches, and even a washing-machine. The camp 
is delightfully located back from the shore in a fine 
stretch of woods, and motorists stopping overnight 
often linger for a few days, for the excellent bathing 
and fishing. 

From Sarnia the Blue Water Highway winds north- 
ward, clinging to the rugged shore of Lake Huron. 
At Kettle Point, famed for its black bass, there is a 
curious natural phenomenon. Huge kettle-shaped 


364 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


rocks, embedded in the black shale, are exposed as 
the waves of the lake wear away theledges. An Ojibwa 
legend claims that when the world was peopled with 
giants a great battle took,place between the chief of the 
giants and the Ojibwa god, Kitchi Kewana. These 
‘kettles’? are the missiles which the god threw; while 
those thrown by the giant were promptly changed by 
Kitchi Kewana into the lovely islands that now dot 
Georgian Bay. 

Goderich, an important lake-port perched upon a 
cliff along this shore highway, is noted for its remark- 
able view of Lake Huron sunsets. There is a de- 
lightful motor-camp here. In fact, all along the Blue 
Water Highway convenient free camps will be found; 
and comfortable hotels, for those who prefer to sleep 
indoors. 

Motorists who use Ontario’s roads are familiar with 
the many black-and-yellow arrow-signs, but they may 
not know that it is to the Ontario Motor League that 
they are indebted for these helpful guides and for many 
other things that make motoring in that province a 
real delight. 

The Manitoba Motor League is doing much to fur- 
ther the enjoyment of those who pass through the 
‘Sunshine City’—Winnipeg. The Red Trail—the 
Trans-Canada Highway—is but one of the many ex- 
cellent roads that radiate from this prairie capital. 

Southern Saskatchewan, also, has a choice of scenic 
roads which cut through the heart of the prairies; for 
the principal roads from Winnipeg, and points in the 


fad 


ye 


ry 


os ein 


ew eX 


‘ree oii. 3 





Courtesy, Canadian Pacific 


ROAD IN YOHO PARK 


~ 
I 


A LURING 


whose 


incense-fragrant and 


ines, 


walls are lodgepole p 


A canyon 


beautiful. 





a: 


Courtesy, Dept. of the Intericr, Canada 






FLOWER-MEADOWS AND GLACIERS 
The roads in Glacier National Park are especially scenic. 


SCENIC ROADS FOR MOTORISTS 365 


United States, cross Saskatchewan to connect with the 
scenic mountain highways in Alberta. 


“Give to me the life I love— 
Let what will be o’er me; 
Give the face of earth around 
And the road before me.” 


The most noted of the scenic routes of the West is 
the Grand Circle Tour, the ‘‘Blue Trail,” with its 
markings blue. This is an international highway, cov- 
ering 4,300 miles and, with its branch-roads, connecting 
twelve National Parks in the United States and three 
in Canada. 

The Grand Circle, entering Canada just east of 
Waterton Lakes, goes northward to Macleod, sending 
back from there a branch-road to Waterton Lakes 
National Park. From Macleod the Blue Trail crosses 
a stretch of rolling prairies and low hills, pauses at 
High River, and sweeps on to Calgary. There it turns 
west and climbs up the picturesque Bow Valley to Banff, 
in Rocky Mountains National Park. Thence it be- 
comes the Banff-Windermere Highway, through Koo- 
tenay National Park; and continues southward along 
the great valley that lies shut in by the Rocky Moun- 
tains on the east and the Selkirk Range on the west. 
Leaving Cranbrook, the Blue Trail crosses through a 
wild pass in the Selkirk Mountains and, entering Idaho, 
swings westward to Spokane and Portland; thence 
southward through San Francisco and Los Angeles; 


366 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


eastward to the Grand Canyon; then north through 
Salt Lake City, and Yellowstone and Glacier National 
Parks; completing the circle at the Canadian border 
east of Waterton Lakes. 

The western part of the Grand Circle is known 
as the “‘California-Banff Bee Line’; the eastern part, 
the “Grand Canyon Route.” 

The northern loop, entirely in Canada, forms the 
greater part of the Canadian Rockies Circle Tour, 
this circle being completed at its southern end by the 
Trans-Canada Highway between Macleod, on the 
Grand Canyon Route to the east, and Cranbrook on 
the California-Banff Bee Line. The Canadian Rockies 
Circle Tour, with markings in red and white and blue 
and white, describes a circle of six hundred miles 
through some of the grandest mountain scenery in the 
world, every mile of it being within or in full sight 
of the Canadian Rockies. 

Both the Grand Circle and the Canadian Rockies 
Circle were made possible by the opening, in 1923, of 
the Banff-Windermere Highway, which already is 
world-famous for the magnificence of its scenery. From 
Banff the road swings through Bow Valley, ascending 
gradually and keeping ever in the shadow of Castle 
Mountain; turning at last to climb upward through 
shadowy forests and snow-steeped peaks to the summit 
of the Divide. Beyond Vermilion Pass, the road lingers 
at Marble Canyon, where Tokumm Creek has formed 
a spectacular waterfall and a deep gorge whose reddish 
walls are banded with white marble. The highway then 


SCENIC ROADS FOR MOTORISTS 367 


winds down the Vermilion Valley, crosses Kootenay 
River, and soon wanders off into deep and fragrant 
forests. “Towering rock-masses, known as the Iron 
Gates, stand like stone giants to guard the valley. The 
road dips between these and winds tortuously along 
cliffs that rise to dizzying heights, while the rushing 
water of Sinclair Creek sings merrily below. The gran- 
deur of these cliffs culminates in Sinclair Canyon, where 
the rugged walls all but shut in the highway and the 
little creek. Suddenly the road sweeps from the wild 
canyon out upon a broad and beautiful valley, with the 
Columbia River winding majestically through it; and 
here it joins the highway from Golden to Lake Winder- 
mere. 

There are several camps along the way; and there 
are quiet mountain lakes and picturesque river-glens 
where few can resist lingering, if only for an hour or so. 
The most delightful stopping-place is at Radium Hot 
Springs, where the warm and restful mineral baths 
call irresistibly to the motorist. There are pleasant 
accommodations for those who wish to linger, whether 
for the benefit of the mineral water or for the wild 
beauty of the mountains and the bracing tonic of the 
evergreen forests. The Kootenay Indians, in the old 
days, brought their sick here, to encase them in min- 
eral-mud before giving them fragrant, if drastic, 
spruce-steam baths. 

The Golden Highway runs from Lake Windermere 
to Golden, following closely beside the Columbia River, 
with the Rocky Mountains rising superbly on the east 


368 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


and the Selkirks cutting against the sky on the west. 

For the wandering motorist, who has all time at 
his command, no more interesting road can be found 
than the old “Cariboo Trail,” built by the Royal Engi- 
neers and eager miners in the early sixties, to open 
up the goldfields in the Cariboo Range of central Brit- 
ish Columbia. This road begins at the railroad town 
of Ashcroft, in Thompson Valley, and runs northward 
through two hundred and twenty miles of deep and 
wholly wild forests to Quesnel Lake. It then climbs 
eastward for sixty miles, with many difficult grades, to 
Barkerville, in the heart of the goldfields. Branch- 
roads extend from the Cariboo Trail northward to the 
Bulkley and Upper Fraser Valleys and to the lovely 
Skeena River district; but these are wagon-roads, not 
to be recommended for any but the hardiest of cars 
and the most patient of drivers, although for wildness 
and beauty of scenery they cannot be surpassed. 

There are many delightful highways radiating from 
both Vancouver and Victoria. The Malahat Drive, on 
Vancouver Island, is one of the famous roads of the 
West—famed for its excellent condition as well as its 
great scenic beauty. It runs from Victoria along the 
rugged seacoast, high up into the hills, to the glacier- 
blue mountains. 

Even Yukon has its fine roads. Those extending 
from Dawson are especially interesting, leading away 
to the important mines, clinging often beside creeks 
that saw feverish activity in the mad days of ’97 and 
98. 









$a 


j ae é Lat # eae 
Courtesy, Victoria & Isl, Pub. Bureau 


THE MALAHAT DRIVE, VANCOUVER ISLAND 
Niagara Canyon has one of the many beautiful falls seen from this 
famous highway. 





Photo., Leonard Frank 


CAMERON LAKE 
The roads leaving Victoria lead up into the hills to exquisite lakes. 


SCENIC ROADS FOR MOTORISTS 369 


Some of the finest roads, and by far the most scenic, 
are in the National Parks. These highways have the 
double attraction of being kept in excellent condition 
and having exquisite camping-sites. 

Jasper Park has roads that are superbly scenic. The 
favorite drive is from Lac Beauvert to Mount Edith 
Cavell, or to Maligne Canyon. The proposed Edmon- 
ton-Vancouver Highway, passing through the park, will 
open up a magnificent area. There are many roads 
leading into Waterton Lakes Park, and a few that 
wind away to its places of greatest beauty. Rocky 
Mountains Park has fine motor-roads radiating from 
Banfi—up Tunnel Mountain; beside Cascade River; 
to Lake Minnewanka. The Banff-Calgary Highway— 
part of the Grand Circle Blue Trail—is the most tray- 
eled road in the park; but the Banff-Lake Louise High- 
way is scarcely less popular. 

Leaving Banff the Lake Louise road follows the 
Banff-Windermere Highway, crossing a torrent which 
forms a clamorous waterfall and races off down John- 
ston Canyon. The two highways then soon separate; 
but here roads, valleys, rushing rivers, snow-capped 
peaks, are entirely unseen. The stupendous granite 
uplift of Castle Mountain has cast its spell, and under 
its weird domination all else is forgotten. “Towers and 
turrets, massive rock walls, colorful cliffs and ledges, 
exert a fascination that none can describe but none, 
having passed that way, ever wholly can forget. Seen 
from the approach up the valley, Castle Mountain 
resembles a medieval stronghold, of a size that Brob- 


370 BEAUTIFUL CANADA 


dingnagians might have gloried in. Its architecture, 
formed by the action of the elements through eons, is 
utterly unique; its coloring is vivid and beautiful. But 
neither its massiveness nor its beauty is so insistent 
as its stupendous, almost vibrant personality. 

The road scarcely can tear itself away from the 
Castle: mile after mile it clings to the foot of the 
rugged walls and comes back again and again for a 
view of the magnificent rock-mass. When at last it 
has rushed away, the dazzling splendor of Mount 
Temple comes into view. This is the highest peak in 
Rocky Mountains Park, reaching nearly to twelve 
thousand feet, its snow summit and its walls of solid 
ice an iridescent blue, resplendent in the sun, mag- 
nificent in shadow. At Lake Louise station the high- 
way begins a climb up through pine forests to the very 
rim of Lake Louise. And from this lake a road, shut 
in by stupendous mountains, winds up the Valley of the 
Ten Peaks to Moraine Lake. | 

Across the Divide, in Yoho Park, there are two 
motor-roads long to be remembered for the grandeur 
of their scenery. One is from Field to Emerald Lake; 
the other, up Yoho Valley to Takakkaw Falls. Glacier 
Park has two short but superbly scenic roads; and in 
Revelstoke Park a delightful road climbs to the top of 
the mountain. 

Throughout all of Canada, except in the Far North, 
there are innumerable highways, with scenery that 
varies from the wildly spectacular or superbly majestic 


SCENIC ROADS FOR MOTORISTS 371 


mountains of the West, to the charming woodland 
stretches of New Brunswick, or Nova Scotia’s fra- 
grant orchards and smiling lakes. So, 


“Come, choose your road and away, my lad, 
Come, choose your road and away! 

We'll out of the town by the road’s bright crown, 
As it dips to the sapphire day! 

All roads may meet at the world’s end, 
But, hey for the heart of the May! 

Come, choose your road and away, dear lad, 

Come, choose your road and away!” 





PAGE 
16. 
22. 
25. 
26. 
a7. 
31. 
37: 


38. 
54 


56. 
57: 


64. 


112. 
115. 


124. 
133. 
135. 
151. 
157. 


APPENDIX 


The verses used at the beginning of the chapters are by 
Canadian poets. Other verses in the text are from the follow- 
ing sources: | 


John Masefield 

Herman Hagedorn 

J. F. Herbin, Canadian 

Henry W. Longfellow 

Henry W. Longfellow 

Bliss Carman, Canadian 

Arthur W. H. Eaton, Can- 
adian 

Pauline Johnson, Canadian 

Arthur W. H. Eatton, Can- 
adian 

Chaucer 

Elizabeth R. MacDonald, 
Canadian 

L. M. Montgomery, Can- 
adian 


. Charles G. D. Roberts, Can- 


adian 
Pauline Johnson, Canadian 


. Alfred Noyes 
. Anonymous 


W. H. Drummond, Can- 
adian 

Joaquin Miller 

W. H. Drummond, Can- 
adian 

Donald C. Scott, Canadian 

Johann Schiller 

Pauline Johnson, Canadian 

Pauline Johnson, Canadian 

Pauline Johnson, Canadian 


PAGE 

171. Archibald Lampman, Can- 
adian 

175. Spenser 

179. Claiborne Kent 

188. Donald C. Scott, Canadian 

194. Bliss Carman, Canadian 

201. Claiborne Kent 

210. Conan Doyle 

222. Alan Sullivan, Canadian 

229. Anonymous 

239. Chaucer 

248. Robert W. Service 

265. Pauline Johnson, Canadian 

269. Pauline Johnson, Canadian 

271. Alfred Noyes 

286. William Wordsworth 

291. Joaquin Miller 

299. Robert W. Service 

304. Robert W. Service 

306. Alfred Tennyson 

318. Robert W. Service 

333. Arthur Stringer, Canadian 

338. Robert W. Service 

344. Ethelwyn Wetherald, Can- 
adian 

349. Elizabeth R. MacDonald, 
Canadian 

353. Rudyard Kipling 

358. Bliss Carman, Canadian 

365. Robert Louis Stevenson 

371. Alfred Noyes 


373 





INDEX 


Abbot’s Pass, 245 

Abitibi, Lake, 122 

Adams, Lake, 261 

Ainslee, Lake, 15, 359 

Albany River, 156 

Alberni Canal, 273 

Alberta, 205-239 

Alert Bay, 273 

Algonquin Indians, 107, 119 

Algonquin Park, 127, 128 

Allumette Island, 119 

Amethyst Lakes, 221 

Anicosti Island, 80, 81 

Annapolis Basin, 22-25, 37; 45 

Annapolis Royal, 24, 342 

Antigonish Harbour, 29 

Anyox, 281 

Arichat Island, 14 

Arrow Lakes, 255-258 

Aspy Bay, 6 

Assiniboine Indians, 162, 174, 212- 
214, 230, 232, 257, 348 

Assiniboine, Mount, 228 

Assiniboine River, 164, 168, 170, 
185 

Asulkan Valley, 259 

Athabasca, Lake, 197, 199, 205- 
208, 307 

Athabasca Pass, 211, 222 

Athabasca River, 195, 
222 

Atlin Lake, 290 

Avon River, 27 

Aylmer Canyon, 348 


206-218, 


Babine Lake, 282, 286 
Back’s River, 325, 337 
Baddeck, 10 

Baffin Land, 322, 336 
Baie Verte, 30, 71 
Baker Lake, 324 


Banff, 229-232, 253, 348, 349, 365 
Banfft-Calgary Highway, 369 
Banff-Lake Louise Highway, 369, 


370 

Banff-Windemere Highway, 253, 
351, 365-367 

Banks Island, 335 

Bastion Peak, 220 

Bathurst, 53 

Battleford, 191 

Battle River, 191 

Bear River, 23 

Beaufort Sea, 317, 335 

Beaver Hills, 189 

Beaver Indians, 207 

Beaver River, 194 

Bedeque Bay, 65, 74 

Bedford Basin, 17 

Bella-Bella, 276 

Bella Coola, 277-279 

Bennett, Lake, 300, 301 

Berg Lake, 288 

Bic, 87 

Big Manitou Lake, 191 

Big Quill Lake, 187 

Big Salmon River, 304 

Bird Rocks, 80 

Black Bay, 148 

Black Diamond Trail, 359 

Blackfeet Indians, 189, 193, 213, 
253, 257, 350 

Black Lake, 197, 199 

Black Reef, 63 

Blomidon, 27 

Blue Trail, 365-367 

Blue Water Highway, 363 

Bonanza Creek, 297, 311 

Bonaventure Island, 85 

Boothia Peninsula, 335 

Borden, 50 

Boularderi Island, 9 


aa 


376 


INDEX 


Bow River, 225, 229, 253, 349, 366 Chesterfield Inlet, 324 


Brandon, 170 

Bras d’Or Lake, 9, 10 

Bras d’Or Trail, 359 
Brazeau River, 223 

Brion Island, 81 

British Columbia, 243-291, 368 
Brulé Lake, 211, 213 
Bubawnt Lake, 324 

Buffalo National Park, 345 
Bulkley River, 285, 286 
Burgess, Mount, 247, 251, 252 


Calgary, 224, 225 

California-Banff Bee Line, 366 

Campobello Island, 39 

Canadian Rockies Circle Tour, 
366, 367 

Canso Gut, 14, 29 

Cape Breton, 12, 24 

Cape Breton Island, 5-16, 29, 66, 
359 

Cape North, 5, 6, 15 

Cape Sable Island, 19 

Cape Tormentine, 50, 73 

Capilano Canyon, 269 

Carcross, 301 

Cardigan Bay, 67 

Cariboo Range, 264, 368 

Cariboo Trail, 368 

Caribou-eater Indians, 321 

Carmack, 306 

Cascumpeque Bay, 65 

Cassiar Bar, 305 

Cassiar Mountains, 282 

Castle Mountain, 253, 366, 369 

Cataract Brook, 244 

Cedar Lake, 173 

Chaleur Bay, 53-56, 82 

Chamcook Lake, 38 

Champlain, Lake, 100, 107, 109 

Charlottetown, 69-71, 73 

Chatham, 52 

Chaudiére Falls, 120 

Chaudiére River, 105 

Chebucto Bay, 16, 17 

Chedabucto Bay, 16 

Cheops, Mount, 260 

Chester Basin, 18 


Cheticamp, 15, 359 

Chicoutimi, 91, 104 

Chignecto Bay, 30, 48, 50 

Chilcotin River, 265, 279 

Chilkat Indians, 307 

Chilkoot Indians, 307 

Chilkoot Pass, 300 

Chipewyan Indians, 177, 198, 199, 
205 

Chipman, 44 

Chiputneticook Lakes, 37 

Chrome Lake, 221 

Churchill Lake, 195 

Churchill River, 176-178, 192-196 

Claire Lake, 206 

Clearwater River, 195, 208 

Cobequid Bay, 28 

Columbia Lake, 253, 254, 256 

Columbia River, 246, 254-258, 352, 
367 

Columbia River Highway, 253, 


367 
Colville Bay, 67 
Committee’s Punch Bowl, 222 
Cooking Lake Forest Reserve, 345 
Copper Indians, 325, 328 
Coppermine River, 328-330 
Cornwallis Valley, 25 
Couchiching, Lake, 130 
Cougar Creek, 260 
Cranbrook, 365 
Cree Indians, 129, 142, 145, 147, 
154, 168, 172, 187, 188, 193, 196, 
199, 208, 222, 230, 326 
Cree Lake, 199, 200 
Crow Indians, 189 
Crow’s Nest Pass, 226, 258 
Cumberland Basin, 30 
Cumberland Lake, 174, 192 
Cumberland Sound, 336 
Cypress Hills, 188, 189 


Dalhousie, 54 

Daulac, Adam, 120 
Davis Strait, 335, 337 
Dawson, 298, 302, 311-313 
Dease Lake, 282 

Dennis Pass, 247 


INDEX 


Desolation Lake, 236 
Devil’s Gap, 232, 348 
Didsbury, 225 

Digby, 22 

Dochet Island, 37 

Dogrib Indians, 321, 328-331 
Duchesnay Pass, 247 


Eastern Harbour, 15 

East Point, 66 

Edith Cavell, Mount, 215 

Edmonton, 224 

Edward, Lake, 105, 361 

Egmont Bay, 74 

Elbow River, 225 

Eldorado Creek, 311 

Elk Island National Park, 345 

Emerald Junction, 73 

Emerald Lake, 247, 248, 370 

Erebus, Mount, 221 

Erie, Lake, 133-138 

Eskimos, 316, 321, 323, 325, 334- 
336 

Etchemin Indians, 36, 38 

Evangeline Trail, 359 


Fairholme Range, 232 
Field, 247, 251 
Fiftymile River, 302 
Finlay River, 282, 287, 330 
Five Finger Rapids, 306 
Fort Anne National Park, 24, 25, 
342 
Fort Beauséjour, 50 
Chipewyan, 207 
“ Cumberland, 50 
“ Douglas, 165 
“du Brocher, 197 
Frederic, 47 
“Frontenac, 131 
“ Garry, 149, 166, 167 
“ George, 287 
“Gibraltar, 165 
“Good Hope, 333 
Fort Howe National Park, 47, 342 
Fort La Reine, 164 
La Tour, 46 
“« Lawrence, 50 
“Lennox, 108 


377 


Fort McLoughlin, 276 

McMurray, 208 

McPherson, 334, 335 

Norman, 332 

Prince of Wales, 328 

Reliance, 313 

Rouge, 164 

Selkirk, 306-309 

Simpson, 330 

Fort William, 148-150 

Fortymile, 296, 297, 314 

Fortymile Creek, 296, 314 

Fox Channel, 335 

Francois Lake, 279 

Franklin, Provisional District of, 
322, 335-337 

Fraser River, 262-265, 278, 287 

Fredericton, 42 

French River, 125 

Frobisher Bay, 336 

Fundy, Bay of, 22-27, 30, 31, 37, 
40, 48, 49 

Fury and Hecla Strait, 337 


Gardner Canal, 279 

Garibaldi, Mount, 265 

Garry, Lake, 325 

Gaspé Bay, 85, 86, 101 

Gaspé Peninsula, 79, 82-86 

Gaspereau Valley, 25 

Gatineau Valley, 122 

Geike, Mount, 220 

George Bay, 29 

Georgetown, 67 

Georgian Bay, 130, 138-140, 364 

Georgia, Strait of, 266, 267 

Ghost River, 232, 348 

Glacier National Park, 258-261, 
352, 370 

Glenlyon Mountains, 306, 309 

Goat Range, 348 

Goderich, 364 

Golden Highway, 253, 367 

Gold Range, 262 

Grand Beach, 171 

Grand Canyon Route, 366 

Grand Circle Tour, 365-367 

Grand Lake, 44 

Grand Manan, 39 


378 


Grand Pré, 26 

Great Bear Lake, 331-333 
Great Divide, 238, 243, 350 
Great Slave Lake, 327, 328 
Grenville Channel, 280, 288 


Haida Indians, 274, 275, 284 

Halifax, 17, 19, 21 

Hamilton, 133, 136 

Hamilton River, 113 

Hare Indians, 331, 334 

Harrison Lake, 265 

Hawes, Jasper, 211, 222 

Hay Lake, 207 

Hayes River, 165, 176 

Hazleton, 282, 284 

Hecate Strait, 274 

Hector Lake, 349 

Herschel Island, 317 

Hillsborough Bay, 70 

Hootalinqua River, 304 

Hopewell Cape, 49 

Hudson Bay, 111, 122, 127, 156, 
164, 176, 322-324 

Huron Indians, 97-99, 104 

Huron, Lake, 125, 137-142 


Ile a la Crosse Lake, 194 

Ile aux Noix, 108 

Illecillewaet Glacier, 258, 259 

Indian Lorette, 104 

Indian River, 296, 311 

Inglismaldie, Mount, 232 

Ingonish, 7-9 

Inside Passage, 267, 273-280 

Iron Gates, 367 

Iroquois Indians, 107, 120, 131, 
134, 137, 141, 257 

Isle aux Coudres, 93 

Isle of Orleans, 102 


Jacquet River, 56 

James Bay, 111, 122, 156, 323 

Jasper Lake, 213 

Jasper National Park, 208, 211- 
223, 281, 284, 288, 346, 347, 369 

Jemseg River, 44 

Johnston Canyon, 369 

Juan de Fuca Strait, 271 


INDEX 


Kakabeka Falls, 149 

Kaministiquia River, 148 

Kananaskis Lakes, 228 

Kawartha Lakes, 130 

Kedgemakooge Lake, 19 

Keewatin, Provisional District of, 
321-327 

Kelowna, 262 

Kemogami, Lake, 91 

Kennebecasis River, 44 

Kentville, 360 

Kicking Horse Pass, 238, 246 

Kicking Horse River, 246, 247, 


251 
Killarney, Lake, 171 
Kingston, 131, 132 
King William Island, 335, 336 
Kitsalas Canyon, 285 
Kitwanga, 284 
Klondike, 296-300, 311-313 
Kluane Lake, 302 
Kootenay Indians, 254, 257, 367 
Kootenay Lake, 256, 258 
Kootenay National Park, 253, 351, 
365, 369 
Kootenay River, 253, 256, 367 
Kwakiutl Indians, 279 


Labelle, 112 

Lachine Rapids, 361 

Lac Beauvert, 214, 219 

Lac la Biche, 209 

Lac la Plonge, 194 

Lac la Ronge, 193 

Lac Seul, 156 

Lac Verte, 91 

Lake Erie Cross, 135 

Lake of Bays, 129 

Lake of the Two Mountains, 109, 
III, 120 

Lake of the Woods, 152-156, 164 

Lakes in the Clouds, 234 

Last Mountain Lake, 186 

Laughing Falls, 250 

Laurentian Mountains, 79, 93, 103, 
109 

Laurentides Park, 105 

Lebarge, Lake, 303 

Lefroy, Mount, 234 


INDEX 


Lesser Slave Lake, 209 
Lethbridge, 225 

Levis, 101 

Lewes River, 307 

Liard River, 330 
Lilliooet Lake, 265 

Little Lake Manitou, 187 
Little Quill Lake, 187 
Little Salmon River, 306 
Llewellyn Glacier, 291 
Loch Lomond, 10 
Logan, Mount, 303 
London Highway, 363 
Long Lac, 146 
Louisbourg, 12-14 
Louise, Lake, 232-237, 370 


MacKay, Mount, 150 

McArthur, Lake, 245 

McGillivray’s Mountain, 211 

McLeod Lake, 287 

Mackenzie Bay, 317, 335 

Mackenzie, Provisional 
of, 321, 327-335 

Mackenzie River, 207, 295, 315, 
330-335 

Macleod, 225, 226 

Macmillan River, 308, 309 

Madame Island, 14 

Magdalen Islands, 67, 80, 81 

Magog, Lake, 105 

Mahone Bay, 18 

Malahat Drive, 273, 368 

Maligne Canyon, 217-219 

Maligne Lake, 216 

Malpeque Bay, 65 

Manitoba, 161-179 

Manitoba, Lake, 168, 172 

Manitoba Motor League, 364 

Manitoulin Island, 141 

Marble Canyon, 366 

Marble Island, 323 

Margaree River, 15, 359 

Marvel Lake, 228 

Matapedia River, 86 

Medicine Hat, 225 

Medicine Lake, 217 

Megantic, Lake, 105 

Meliseet Indians, 40, 43 


District 


312 


Melville Peninsula, 335 

Memphremagog, Lake, 105 

Menissawok National Park, 344 

Metis Beach, 87 

Miami Indians, 142 

Michipicoten Island, 144 

Micmac Indians, 3, 6-14, 23, 27, 
28, 35, 40, 49, 54, 61, 68, 75 

Mictou Island, 55 

Miette Hot Springs, 212 

Miette River, 213 

Miles Canyon, 302 

Minaki, 155 

Minas Basin, 17, 24, 26-28 

Minnewanka, Lake, 231, 232 

Miquelon Island, 11 

Mira Bay, 12 

Miramichi Bay, 51, 52 

Missiquash River, 50 

Mississauga Forest Reserve, 141 

Mohawk Indians, 40 

Moncton, 49 

Montague, 67 

Mont Laurier, 112 

Montmorency Falls, 104 

Montreal, 98, 100, 108-111, 361, 
362 

Montreal Lake, 193, 196 

Moose Jaw, 187 

Moose Lake, 175 

Moose Mountain, 186, 189 

Moraine Lake, 236, 370 

Murray Bay, 94, 360 

Murray Harbour, 67-69 

Muskoka Lakes, 128 


Nabou Harbour, 15 

Nakimu Caves, 260 

Naskapi Indians, 112, 113 
Nass River, 282 

Nechako River, 287 

Nelson, 257 

Nelson River, 176 

Nemiskam National Park, 344 
Newcastle, 52 

Niagara Falls, 133, 363 
Nipigon, 145 

Nipissing Indians, 119, 142 
Nipissing, Lake, 125-127, 137 


380 


Nootka Indians, 269 

Nootka Sound, 273 

North Battleford, 191 

North Bay, 127 

North Cape, 5, 6, 15 

North Channel, 140, 141 

North Point, 63 

North Saskatchewan River, 
190-192, 223 

North Somerset Island, 335 

Northumberland Strait, 28-30, 50, 
62, 73 

Northwest Territories, 191, 321- 
338 

Norway House, 176 

Notre Dame Mountains, 79 

Nova Scotia, 3-31, 62, 67, 71, 359 


183, 


Oak Island, 18 

Oesa, Lake, 245 

O’Hara, Lake, 244 

Ojibwa Indians, 129, 138, 142, 147, 
154 

Okanagan Lake, 261, 262 

Okanagan Landing, 262 

Old Crow River, 316 

Old Man River, 225 

Ontario, 111, 119-157 

Ontario, Lake, 132, 133 

Ontario Motor League, 364 

Ootsa Lake, 279 

Orient, 146 

Ottawa, 121, 122 

Ottawa Indians, 141 

Ottawa River, 109, 111, 120-122, 
125 

Ouiatchouan River, 90 

Owl’s Head Harbour, 16 


Palliser Range, 231 

Panther River, 348 

Paradise Valley, 235 

Parrsboro, 26 

Parsnip River, 278, 287 

Pas, The, 175 

Passamaquoddy Bay, 36, 37, 39 

Peace River, 206-208, 224, 278, 
282, 330 


INDEX 


Peel River, 315, 335 


Pelly River, 307-309 

Penticton, 262 

Percé Rock, 83, 84 

Peter Pond Lake, 195 

Petitcodiac River, 48 

Pictou, 28, 30, 67, 71, 73 

Piegan Indians, 257 

Pie Island, 148 

Pigeon River, 150 

Pipestone River, 348 

Pitt Island, 280 

Point du Chéne, 50, 74 

Pointe aux Pins, 138 

Point Escuminac, 51 

Point Pelee National Park, 136, 
138, 343 

Porcher Island, 280 

Porcupine Indians, 90 

Porcupine River, 315 

Portage la Prairie, 168-170 

Port Arthur, 148 

Portland Canal, 281 

Port Nelson, 176 

Port Royal, 24, 37, 45, 342 

Prince Albert, 192-194 

Prince Edward Island, 56, 61-76 

Prince George, 287 

Prince of Wales Island, 335 

Prince Rupert, 280, 281, 284: 

Pyramid Lake, 220 

Pyramid Mountain, 214, 219 


Qu’Appelle River, 185, 186 

Quebec, 94, 97-102, 360 

Quebec, Province of, 54, 79-115, 
360 

Queen Charlotte Islands, 274 

Quesnel Lake, 264, 368 

Quetico Park, 150-152 

Quiet Lake, 304-306 


Radium Hot Springs, 367 
Rainy Lake, 152 

Red Deer River, 348 
Red River, 164-168 

Red Trail, 358-362, 364 
Regina, 186, 187 
Reindeer Lake, 196, 197 


INDEX 


Resplendent, Mount, 290 

Restigouche River, 53 

Revelstoke National 
352, 370 

Richelieu River, 107 

Richibucto Bay, 51 

Rideau Lakes, 130 

Rideau River, 120 

Riel, Louis, 166, 191 

Riviére du Liévre, 112 

Riviére du Loup, 87 

Riviére Rouge, 112 

Robson, Mount, 264, 288-290 

Roche de Smet, 213 

Roche Miette, 211 

Rocky Mountains National Park, 
228-238, 253, 347-349, 365, 369 

Rondeau Park, 138 

Rossignol Lake, 19 

Royal Canadian Mounted Police, 
186 

Royal North-West Mounted Po- 
lice, 186, 225, 298-300 

Rundle, Mount, 230 

Rustico, 66 


Park, 261, 


Sable Island, 19-21 

Saguenay River, 87-93, 104 

St. Andrews, 37 

St. Ann Bay, 9 

Ste. Anne de Beaupré, 102-104 

St. Clair Lake, 137 

St. Croix River, 24, 27, 36, 37 

St. Elias Range, 303 

St. Ignace Island, 145 

St. John, 22, 35, 40, 47, 48, 342 

St. John, Lake, 89-92, 104, 112 

St. John River, 36, 40-48, 53 

St. Lawrence, Gulf of, 6, 62, 80 

St. Lawrence Islands National 
Park, 131, 343 

St. Lawrence River, 40, 79-82, 87- 
89, 93-III, 120, 131, 361, 362 

St. Louis, Lake, 109 

St. Margaret Bay, 18 

-$t. Mary Bay, 22 

St. Mary’s River, 141 

St. Maurice River, 105, 361 

St. Patrick Channel, 10 


381 


St. Paul Baie, 93 

St. Paul Island, 6 

St. Peter, Lake, 107 

St. Peter’s Canal, 10 

St. Pierre Island, 11 

Salish Indians, 269 

Salmon River, 28, 44 
Sarnia, 363 

Saskatchewan, 183-201 
Saskatchewan River, 175, 176, 183 
Saskatoon, 190 

Saulteaux Indians, 162, 168 
Sault Sainte Marie, 142, 143 
Scatari Island, 12 

Selwyn, Mount, 258, 

Seneca Indians, 136, 137 
Shawinigan Falls, 105, 361 
Shediac, 51 

Sheet Harbour, 16 

Sheldon Lake, 308 

Shepody Bay, 48 

Sherbrooke Lake, 244 
Shikshok Mountains, 79 
Shippegan Island, 55 
Shuswap Indians, 250, 255, 351 
Shuswap Lake, 261 

Silver Islet, 148 

Simcoe, Lake, 130 

Sinclair Canyon, 253, 367 
Sioux Indians, 154, 161 

Sir Donald, Mount, 258 
Siwash Rock, 268, 269 
Sixtymile River, 311 

Skeena River, 280, 282-285 
Slave Indians, 327 

Slave River, 206, 207, 327, 330, 


335 
Smoky Cape, 8 
Smoky River, 208 
Snake Indians, 189 
Snake Indian River, 212 
Souris, 67 


_Southern Indian Lake, 177 


South Saskatchewan River, 183, 
188, 190, 225 

South Shore Highway, 359 

Split Rock, 27 

Spray Lakes, 348 

Spray River, 229, 230 


382 


Squamish Indians, 270 
Stephen, Mount, 247, 251 
Stewart River, 310 
Stikine River, 282 
Stoney Indians, 237 
Stuart Lake, 287 
Sulphur Hot Springs, 212 
Sulphur Mountain, 230, 231 
Summerside, 50, 74 
Summit Lake, 248 
Sundance Canyon, 231 
Superior, Lake, 142-150 
Swift Current, 188 
Sydney, 11 


Tacla Lake, 287 

Tadoussac, 87-89, 93 
Tagish Indians, 307, 310 
Takakkaw Falls, 249, 370 
Taku Arm, 301 

Tatla Lake, 279 

Temagami Forest Reserve, 123-125 
Temiskaming, Lake, 122, 127 
Temple, Mount, 233, 235, 370 
Teslin Lake, 304 

Thirtymile River, 304 
Thompson River, 262-265 
Thousand Islands, 130, 343 
Three Rivers, 105, 361 
Three Sisters, 358 

Thunder Bay, 147, 148 
Tignish Indians, 63, 64 
Tobique River, 53 

Tonquin Valley, 220 
Toronto, 132, 133 
Touchwood Hills, 186, 189 
Tower of Babel, 236 
Trans-Canada Highway, 358-362, 


A aN, 
Trois Rivieres, 105, 361 
Truro, 28 


Tsimsian Indians, 284 
Tumbling Glacier, 288 
Tunnel Mountain, 230 
Turret Mountain, 220 
Twin Falls, 250 


Uisge-Ban Falls, 10 
Ungava Indians, 112 


INDEX 


Valley of a Thousand Falls, 289 

Valley of the Ten Peaks, 236, 370 

Vancouver, 267-270, 368 

Vancouver Island, 267, 269, 271- 
274, 368 

Vermilion River, 253, 367 

Victoria, 267, 272, 368 

Victoria Glacier, 234 

Victoria Island, 335 

Victoria, Mount, 234, 244 

Vimy Mountain, 350 


Wainwright, 345 
Wapta, Lake, 243, 246 
Wapta, Mount, 249 
Washademoak Lake, 44 
Waterton Lakes National Park, 
226-228, 349, 350, 365, 369 
Wawaskesey National Park, 344 
Wheeler, Mount, 258 
Whirlpool River, 215, 222 
Whitehorn, Mount, 289: 
Whitehorse, 300, 302 
Whitehorse Rapids, 302 
White Pass, 299, 300 
White River, 310 
Whycocomagh, 10 
Windermere, Lake, 253, 307 
Windigoostiawan, Lake, 151 
Windsor, 27, 363 
Winnebago Indians, 142 
Winnipeg, 164-168, 171, 364 
Winnipeg Lake, 164, 171, 173 
Winnipeg River, 155, 164, 172 
Winnipegosis, Lake, 172, 173 
Wolfville, 26, 360 
Wollaston Lake, 197 
Wonder Pass, 228 


Yarmouth, 19, 21, 359 

Yellowhead Pass, 211, 213, 222 

Yellowknives Indians, 321, 328 

Yoho National Park, 238, 243-252 
350, 351, 370 

York Factory, 176, 193 

Yukness, Mount, 245 

Yukon, 295-318, 368 

Yukon River, 295-315 





.' 


7 = rape ama > en mj Lee elements 


pe a es 


—— 9 . . reas ~——_o 3 © > ee - - fe be 
" i PE aera el ahaa ai aie awe > — i. — pa . 


; a = v peace =: eres 
Ey eee aaah (ager tp at i ge DS a a mer Dia — -—- 


ee ee me ° nt Me Stee 
= mp i ee a ey + ev = ee a Se Pim Kae ome ne or on ME me 
=: - —id : & 2 i gat 5 A Cte” 0 


a 3 ~ ee rite OS tgs —— 


aaa . ae 


af re 7 ~ oe a 
- ‘ 
a 
+i » eee 
a a * 
fa « 
et ae ee tae 
a eae ee ae A ce lle 
one = - 


ee es 





iil 


INMINI 


UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA 


I 


| 


<2 ae mae! 


ere ereee 
ee 




































































